Ron Weasley and the Amulet of Glass
by Repenexus
Summary: When Ron Weasley went to Egypt for the summer, he got trapped in a pyramid, escaped, and wound up with a weird amulet - one that could do stuff like see magic and turn him into an 'Anima'... whatever that is. Honestly, though - what the hell is a Growlithe?
1. Inside the Pyramid

Ron wasn't particularly sure how he got there. Lying on the floor of a chamber in a pyramid, he idly tried to remember how he got into this situation - he had hit his head rather hard at some point.

.

.

.

No, never mind. He remembered,

Ron Weasley, budding wizard extraordinaire (or something like that) was currently on a vacation with the rest of his family. Dad had won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw and decided that visiting Bill in Egypt would be a good use of the money.

Today was their fourth day exploring the pyramids, and Ron was getting increasingly bored of it all. Oh sure, for the first few hours, the pyramids were neat. But three and a half days of nothing but pyramids would drive even Hermione crazy… maybe.

Only a minute ago, he was exploring the pyramid along with the rest of his family. Then, somewhere, somehow, he had pressed a lever or switch, or activated a trap.

The ground had fallen beneath him with a pop, and he was off, shooting down a slide just like the one in the Chamber of Secrets. Eventually, he landed on his rump in an empty, abandoned chamber, head bruising from all the bumps along the way.

Ron slowly pulled himself to his feet, brushing off the sand that had stuck to his clothes. He pulled out his wand - then cringed at the end of it, which flopped around uselessly and emitted royal purple sparks. Rom remembered what happened to Lockhart quite well and quietly put his wand aside.

Magic was out - even if he was allowed to use it, his wand was about as useful as twig right now. Ron looked back through the passageway, which had closed up behind him, sealed tight.

He must have activated some sort of booby trap the muggles hadn't found yet. Any wizard would be able to stop themselves from falling through that kind of hole with magic. He might have been able to save himself if he had been able to use magic.

So, now what? What was he going to do now?

Just from looking around the room, he could already see that there was no way out. There were no tunnels or passageways out of the chamber. To be sure, he took a look around the room to see if there were any special knobs or levers he could use to open a way back up.

There were none. As far as he could tell, he was trapped there - and there was nothing inside the room, anyway! Why would the Ancient Egyptian wizards - no, this was a muggle trap… why would the Ancient Egyptian Muggles build something like this? Just build a _normal_ chamber or something!

Ron sat down, bored. There was nothing to do in this prison cell of a chamber - for all he knew, this was an actual prison cell. He could be stuck here for eternity - though there weren't any bones, which would mean that he was the first person to ever spring that trap.

Just his luck.

Hours passed as he waited for something, _anything_ to happen. He had pressed, pulled, prodded, and punched anything that could be used to spring him free. All he was left with was a hand that continued to ache.

His stomach growled, and a growing sense of panic grew within him.

Was this the way he was going to die?

"Let me out! Let me out!" He screamed. His desperate plea echoed silently in the chamber he was stuck inside.

No matter how hard he screamed, though, there were no answers. He was stuck there, and there was nothing he could do about it.

It was hopeless…

…

…

…

… but hadn't he overcome worse situations with Harry before? Ron had taken out the troll, defeated McGonagall's chess set, and had escaped from the clutches of Aragog.

So how was this any different?

… it was because Harry wasn't here. Back in Hogwarts, he had Harry - the Boy-Who-Lived to help. Here, he was all alone, with no one here to help him.

Ron clenched his hand. Why should that stop him, though? He was just as capable of a wizard as Harry was. If Harry could defeat a _Basilisk_, then why couldn't he escape a simple locked room?!

He'd break out of this room if it was the last thing he'd do!

Ron got up, ignoring his hunger, and started looking around the room for clues. There had to be a sort of switch or lever somewhere!

His search led him nowhere, though. He retread the same paths he had before - without a new clue or guide, he didn't have an idea about what he could do to save himself. After an hour of searching, his hunger attacked with full force, almost forcing him to his knees.

Ron dry-heaved and coughed, the dry desert air sapping all the water from his breath and making him thirsty beyond all measure. He… he didn't have it within himself to move anymore.

His fingers curled on the sandy floor. Was this all he could do?

Then he noticed something. Underneath the sand of the floor was a black smear. Rubbing his fingers on it, Ron inspected the powder his finger had been smeared with. It smelled curiously like rotten eggs and Dungbombs.

Ron wrinkled his nose. "Urgh… who brought this here," he complained to thin air. He wiped his smelly hands on his trousers. Just his luck. Now he was going to die, not only hungry, thirsty, and tired, but smelling like dung.

He sat down and looked idly around the room. Ron had pretty much lost hope at this point. He had tried his hardest - but there was _nothing_ here. _Nothing!_ There were no knobs, no levers, no switches, no runes - just four walls of solid stone and a sand-covered floor.

There weren't any skeletons or mummies, though - which was a silver lining, if there was one. Ron wouldn't be able to defend himself from any magical creature or monster like this.

How could Ron be the only to fall for such a trap?

As Ron mused, his hand brushed against the odorous black powder again, and he grimaced. Then, a stray thought occurred to him.

If he was the only thing that had ever come down here… why was there black powder underneath the sand?

Ron, ignoring the awful smell of the powder, brushed some more sand away from the floor, and uncovered a line of the awful smelling black powder. It was only a simple curved line of the black powder - but it was _something_!

Ron feverishly shoveled sand across the floor and uncovered more of the powder. He worked for almost half an hour, continuously shoving sand across the floor to uncover more and more of the powder.

Soon, he had dumped all of the sand in a small corner of the room and looked at the shape he had uncovered. A strange circular array was on the ground, lined in the black powder. There were no runes on the array, which… didn't really mean anything to him. He didn't even know what runes _did_, in all honesty.

Still… he had made progress, hadn't he?

Ron sat down to look at the center of the circle. There was a lack of sand in that particular spot - Ron didn't have to shovel any sand from there. An odd coincidence, probably…

… Ron took some sand from the pile in the corner of the room and dumped it onto the center of the circle. Once it touched the center, though, it immediately vanished. Ron picked up the sand again, only to be met with the exact same result.

It was magic - this circle was enchanted or warded or something like that.

Ron pulled out his wand. It was clear - he needed magic to escape this chamber. He could explain things to Mum when he found her again. With a few careful taps, he prodded the center of the circle.

Nothing - absolutely nothing - happened. A little angry, Ron started waving his wand around madly, trying to get his wand to do _something_. All he managed to summon out of the wand, though, were simply more purple sparks.

Ron sat down and started idly waving his wand, wondering what he would do next. He had to use magic to escape - but his wand wasn't working.

Then, a random spark that he had released from his wand floated down and touched a line of black powder. With a roar of purple flame, the powder ignited.

Ron scrambled backward, putting his back against the wall as more and more of the black powder ignited. Soon, the entire circle was ablaze, illuminating the chamber with a bright light.

Ron didn't know what to do. Should he put the flames out with sand? _Could_ he put the flames out at all? Was this _supposed_ to happen-

Then the room started shaking, and Ron started praying for his life. To whom or what, he didn't know, but he dearly wished he would survive what just happened.

Then the circle started turning. A wheel of fire had formed in front of his eyes, taking his breath away. Stone started rising as an altar formed where the center of the circle used to be.

Ron must have activated an altar or something. If there was an altar, then this chamber must have been some sort of religious room. That explained why there were no skeletons or anything either - this wasn't a prison.

Ron cautiously approached the altar, wondering if this was _really_ the right path. Surely his parents would come to rescue him… except that it had been at least five hours since he had gotten lost. If they hadn't found him yet, then there was a chance they never would.

As he neared, the flames parted for him, and a set of stairs appeared. Ron gingerly took one step, then another, as he made his way up the altar.

At the top of the altar, there was a large pedestal. On the pedestal was a golden box - not a sarcophagus, those were much longer and had bodies in them.

Ron beginning to feel apprehensive. If his adventures with Harry told him anything, it was that things like these were usually cursed to the ends of the earth.

Except… this was an altar, not a treasure room or some other place where you would keep cursed artifacts. There was no reason to curse this golden box…

… still…

Then his stomach rumbled, and he doubled over in stomach pain, resting in a fetal position. A few minutes later, he dragged himself to his feet.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron said. "I'm not going to waste away deciding!"

Mind made up, he grabbed the box. There was no immediate reaction. Tentatively, he pushed the box open, revealing its contents.

Inside the box, he found an ancient Egyptian scroll, as well as a strange amulet.

Wary of the scroll (he still remembered Riddle's diary), Ron decided to look at the amulet. The chain was made of some gold material and felt rather cool on his skin. The center of the amulet, though… it was just some piece of glass.

He bounced the amulet around a bit, testing its weight. It didn't seem to be cursed or anything - in fact, it seemed to be just some random piece of treasure.

Of course, Riddle's diary was like that as well - and he still had yet to actually put the amulet on. Ron decided to take the time to look at the scroll, opening it wide.

And on the scroll Ron found… nothing. It was blank - there was absolutely nothing written on it.

Ron dropped the scroll like it was burning, and pointed his wand directly at it.

He wasn't going to take any chances - something like this was _clearly_ bad news. Something like this wouldn't be treated with such care if it didn't have any magical properties, or was special at all.

These items… he needed to get rid of them. Throw them far, far away, so that no one would be able to find them anymore.

Then his stomach rumbled again, and the pain started again. Ron fought bravely to keep his wits about him but succumbed once again.

He was _never_ going back into a pyramid once he escaped.

Ron looked around the room, hoping that the way to an exit would show itself - but lo and behold, except for the altar, everything was still the same. His parents still hadn't come to rescue him.

Ron sighed, then looked at the amulet warily. Other than his suspicions and paranoia, there was nothing stopping him from putting on the necklace. Nothing but his own cowardice.

He was a Gryffindor - and Gryffindors don't back down!

He took a deep breath, then slipped the amulet on.

A second passed. Two seconds. Three seconds. Four seconds. Five seconds.

…

…

…

Nothing was happening. No voices were whispering in his head. He felt no urge to kill something. Nothing was puppetting his movements or controlling him. He felt absolutely, completely normal.

Ron took the amulet off. Nothing happened.

A crazed laugh left him. He was worked up over nothing! It was just some weird glass amulet - there were no enchantments or anything on it.

Ron's grin fell. That was his last lead. He didn't know what he had to do now - he had used up all of his options. He almost wished that the items were cursed or enchanted - maybe he could have gotten a hint or something.

Ron slung the amulet back over his neck. If he was lucky enough to escape, he would give it to Bill or something. There was nothing wrong with a little extra gold, after all.

After a moment's thought, he took the scroll as well. It didn't seem dangerous to hold, and he could just give it to Bill once he returned.

Still, he didn't know what he was going to do now. His stomach was now constantly rumbling, a near-permanent reminder of his captivity. He had to figure out _some way_ to escape this chamber. He searched the chamber for a fourth time, not hoping for much. Sure enough, he wasn't able to find anything.

Ron was starting to feel tired - as in, he had spent his entire day in this one chamber and hadn't eaten anything.

He sat down back at the altar, the weight of the amulet heavy on his neck, fidgeting painfully. It was hard enough to think with the heat, hunger, and exhaustion. He didn't need this weight as well. Seriously, if it was _lighter_ than-

The weight on his neck lessened. Ron startled.

What happened? He was just thinking about how heavy the amulet on his neck was and how he wished it was lighter and-

The amulet grew even lighter than it had before. Now Ron could hardly feel it around his neck - it was as light as air.

This amulet… it was magic, just as he thought it was when he first picked it up. It must have a Featherweight Charm on it or something - Rom remembered learning that earlier in the past year.

Then Ron brought the amulet up to eye-level and immediately dropped it again.

Through the glass part of the amulet - much like an eyepiece, now that he thought about it - he saw something completely different than what he had seen for the last four searches of the room.

Ron peered through the amulet again.

Glowing green lines were lining the walls of the chamber, pulsing constantly. They formed strange patterns on the walls - irregular patterns.

Ron immediately took to looking at the walls with the amulet. While three of the four walls were simply covered in the strange green lines, the fourth wall was slightly different. A large rectangle, outlined in green, stood, with a small green circle at waist level. In fact, Ron reckoned that it looked similar to a… door.

Ron put his hand on the doorknob circle, which pulsed at his touch. His breath quickened.

Then the circle disappeared, as another circle appeared on the door. Ron slammed his hand on the other circle, which too disappeared.

The process repeated another six times. Then Ron pressed the final circle - and the wall gave way, opening a passage for him.

Ron stood at the door, dumbfounded. Then, ever so slowly, a grin stretched across his face.

"Finally!" He cheered, and after making sure he had everything - the scroll, the amulet, and his wand - he left that thrice-cursed chamber behind.

He came to a flight of stairs and immediately began climbing it. Up and up he went, ignoring the pain his legs went through.

Finally, he came to an ornate doorway at the top of the stairs. With little to no hesitation, he went through the doorway.

He then collapsed in pain. The amulet was on fire.

The amulet _seared_ against his skin, burning it as it clung to his skin. Ron's breath grew ragged as the amulet's gold chain wound tighter and tighter against his neck, the flames licking painfully against his body.

Then there was a strange _SNAP_ as something in him fought against what the amulet was doing to him - killing him. With a final push, he managed to tear the amulet off his skin and threw it to the ground.

He panted as the no-longer-flaming amulet glowed on the ground, the glass twinkling.

He… shouldn't have kept wearing it. It was cursed, alright, and he _wasn't_ taking it with him anymore. Screw the gold he could have gotten from selling it, it was _way_ too dangerous to let near anything.

Without hesitation, Ron threw the scroll so that it landed right next to the amulet. The two artifacts laid innocently on the top of the stairs. With only a moment's thought, Ron kicked them down the stairs. They bumped and clattered their way down, each sound relieving him further.

He didn't need them anymore, anyway. If that thing was supposed to kill him, then they wouldn't make any more puzzles that would need the amulet or the scroll.

Ron moved on through the doorway, not bothering to take note of the walls of the passageway he had entered. If he had, he would have seen strange drawings, dissimilar to the Egyptian Murals that Bill had shown him way, way earlier that day. Images of monsters wielding powers of the elements, of demons and malevolent spirits.

Ron made it all the way to end of the passageway. Then he heard voices, and a familiar crying sound - albeit he rarely heard it for himself. He turned the corner and saw his family.

Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, was weeping and crying, her face inconsolably distraught. Percy hovered near her, offering bland reassurances every now and again ("Mother, there's no need to worry", "Bill and Father will find Ron soon", etc.).

The twins had smiles on their faces as they tried to cheer Ginny, who was nearly on the verge of tears. Although, the smiles were off, somehow. They were more forced than usual.

Then Ron's stomach grumbled, and his family was alerted to his presence.

"R-ron?!" Mum's eyes were wide open. "You… you…"

"Do you have any food? I'm starving."

That opened the floodgates. She rushed to him, nearly tripping over herself. Mum grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug, nearly causing his eyes to bulge out of their sockets.

"Ron! You're alright!" She whispered into his ear, relief abundant.

His stomach rumbled again, demanding his attention. "Mum? I haven't eaten anything all day. Can I eat something please?"

Mum released him and nodded immediately, before barking at one of the twins. "Fred, George, one of you give him a sandwich!"

The twins were looking at him, shocked to see him just standing there. Then an honest, simple laugh came from one of them.

"Did you have a fun adventure, Ickle Ronnikins?" The twins pestered him as Ginny rolled her eyes. "Exploring the big, bad scary pyramid all by your liddle widdle self?"

"Fred, George, that's enough!" Mum snapped. "Ginny, could you please pass your brother some food."

Ginny wiped the tear from her face and nodded, before locking Ron in place with a cold stare. Somehow, Ron knew that he would be at the end of an especially bad prank once they got back to the Burrow.

Fishing the sandwich out, she passed it over to Ron. The stomach demanded food, so Ron ate (even if it was corned beef). The dry sandwich slid down his throat painfully as he coughed. "Water," he croaked.

Before Mum could say anything, Percy passed Ron a bottle of water, which he took gratefully.

As he ate and drank, Mum looked at him demandingly. "What happened?! One minute you were right behind us, and the next you were missing!"

Ron opened his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted by Dad and Bill, who had returned with downtrodden looks on their faces. "Molly, dear, we looked everywhere but we couldn't find him… Ron?!"

"Hi, dad," Ron waved.

Ron's dad looked at him in amazement, before collapsing to the ground. "Ron," his father groaned. "What happened, exactly?"

"Can we go back, first?" Ron replied, his limbs dropping like lead. "I'm… I'm a little tired. I need to rest."

Mum stood up in her bossy way. "Right, right. Everyone, let's get out of the pyramid! It's time we returned to rest."

So it was that the Weasley family left the pyramid behind, Ron feeling no sense of regret whatsoever.

After a brief hour's travel and the setting of the summer sun, the Weasleys huddled back into the tent that Dad had rented for the trip. As they ate dinner, Ron regaled them with the tale of what had happened in the chamber of the pyramid.

Once he mentioned the scroll and the amulet, Ginny paled thoroughly, though Ron didn't pay much attention.

He finished with him throwing the amulet and the scroll away, before meeting up with everyone. He waited for their reactions.

The entire room was silent as they tried to digest the information. Each Weasley was a portrait of a different emotion. Mum held nothing but worry, while Dad was intrigued. Percy looked almost… bored?

Ginny's eyes were distant, as though she was seeing something far, far away. Bill was looking at Ron with a mixture of confusion and bewilderment.

Fred and George were… smiling? They looked almost ready to fall into a laughing fit, so much so that when Ron finished his story he couldn't help but look at Fred and George with concern.

Then Fred laughed. Truly laughed, slapping his knee and catching bewildered looks from everyone in the family, except for George. George soon started laughing as well, doubling over. Ron felt out-of-his-depth as all of this happened.

Fred wiped a tear from his eye. "So, what actually happened, Ickle Ronnikins?"

Ron was affronted. "That was what happened!" He protested hotly. "I didn't leave anything out - I told you everything!"

"But…" George was snickering. "You, discover a secret to an ancient altar and finding some cursed amulet and scroll - which you didn't read - and threw away?"

"What a load of bollocks!"

Ron could tell, _sense_, that their faith in what he was saying was wavering. "No - no, I actually found a chamber!" He was getting desperate. "Bill, I can show you what I'm talking about tomorrow!" Thoughts of the amulet and scroll and the dangers they represented had almost completely left his mind at this point.

Before Bill could answer, however, Mum had barged in. "Absolutely not! You aren't going anywhere near that pyramid again - you could be lost again!"

"No, mum! And I wasn't lost-"

"No means no, Ronald!" Mum silenced him with a furious glare. "End of discussion!"

Bill coughed. "Anyway, what you were describing, Ron… that doesn't sound like any tomb or chamber I've come across." As Ron was about to object, Bill cut him off. "That doorway… the architecture sounds too much like something you'd find in Europe - the Egyptians would never make something like that."

Ron opened and closed his mouth, gaping like a fish. "But… but…!"

Nobody was believing him, though. Some instinct told Ron that he wasn't going to convince them anymore. Mum believed that he just got lost, the twins thought that he was lying, and Bill shot his story down with something about… doors?

"I can show you, though!" Ron managed to plead. "If you let me go to the pyramid tomorrow, I can show…" Ron trailed off at the furious look on Mum's face.

"That enough, Ronald!" She hissed. "You aren't going back to the pyramid tomorrow - or any pyramids at all. You're going to stay here so that you don't get lost and that I can know where you are at _all_ times!"

Then, as Ron geared up to argue with Mum, Bill chimed in again. "Also, Ron… I've explored that area of the pyramid completely. I never saw anything like you were describing." Bill looked at Ron with pity. "It's okay, you know, if you got a little lost - I've gotten lost in the pyramid too, a couple of times before."

Dad nodded. "Right, Bill. It's okay to get lost." Dad checked his watch. "It's about time we go to sleep, kids. Go to your tents and meet up here in the morning, okay?"

Ron couldn't speak as the rest of his family nodded - well, except for Fred and George, who were still wheezing. Ginny hit them, having recovered from whatever was bothering her, and the twins eventually got up, heading for their tent. Percy left with a disapproving shake of his head toward Ron.

Just before she left, Mum said one last thing to Ron. "Ron, you won't come with us tomorrow to the pyramid. You will stay here with Charlie and help him with his work."

Ron couldn't say anything as Mum left for her tent. For a few minutes, he stood in the communal tent in silence.

Then, in a daze, he slowly started walking to the tent he shared with Percy. When he walked in, Percy was already snoozing on his mattress, wasting no time. Ron sat down on his bed.

"... why didn't they believe in me?" He questioned thin air, balling his hands into fists. "Did they think… did they think that I _wanted_ to be stuck in that chamber? Do they I wanted to be alone, lost, calling for help?!"

Ron growled under his breath, before trying to calm himself down. Percy would throw a fit if he woke him up, and Ron didn't feel like screaming anymore today.

Putting his head in his hands, Ron considered what he was going to do. He wasn't allowed to go to the pyramid, and Charlie would probably tell Mum what he did tomorrow when they returned. Anyway, there would be no point - he couldn't show them the room, because he wasn't allowed to go.

Ron needed evidence to show what had happened to him - but since he couldn't go to the pyramid, he couldn't show anything.

For a brief second, Ron wished that he had at least kept the scroll - the scroll hadn't done anything dangerous, as it was completely blank.

Then Ron felt a weight in one of his pockets, other than his wand. Idly, he reached into the pocket… and felt a strange papery material.

He withdrew his hand and found the scroll in his hand.

Ron stared blankly at the scroll, then dropped it like a hot iron.

"What… how did it come back?!" He whispered to himself. Ron pondered the question - the scroll didn't look like it was doing anything.

Then he realized.

"When the amulet was too heavy, I wanted it to be lighter, and it got less heavy." He reasoned to himself. "When I wanted the scroll back, it appeared back in my pocket."

Against his better judgment, Ron wished the amulet back around his neck, before he could stop himself.

The weight settled itself around his neck. Ron reached into his shirt to uncover the amulet that he had thrown away back in the pyramid - the one that had burned him.

The one that was no longer burning him.

Ron stared at the amulet, then pulled it off his neck and placed it on the mattress next to the snoozing Scabbers (who Ron didn't take with him to the pyramid), covering it with his blanket. Whatever that amulet was, it was still dangerous.

To be completely honest, Ron didn't know what to do with these things, other than using them as evidence. The amulet… while it was useful, with the whole glowing green lines thing, it burned and scorched him.

The scroll, though…

Ron picked it up. There was no reason to look at what was inside - it was completely blank. There was no point in looking at this thing.

Still… it had to have _some_ purpose, right? Why would the Egyptians make the scroll, if the amulet could already kill?

He was a Gryffindor. He could do this.

Ron tentatively opened the scroll and was met with the same nothingness he had previously encountered. The scroll was just a scroll, nothing more.

Except that it was enchanted to come to his call, so it _couldn't_ just be a scroll. It could be enchanted or cursed, just like the amulet. There could be writing still on it, just invisible to the naked eye.

Or… Ron looked at the quill over by Percy's bedside. He went over and took it, before inking it and walking over the scroll.

Ron breathed heavily. If the scroll talked back to him, he was going to burn it, no questions asked. Otherwise…

Ron wrote his name on the scroll.

The ink remained on the scroll for a second. Then the ink disappeared. Ron held his breath… and nothing happened.

Five minutes later, Ron was feeling a bit of relief. The scroll just… erased whatever was written on it? That was it?

Ron wrote _My name is Ron Weasley_ on the scroll, just to see if that gave a response. When none came, Ron was confused.

"Why is this scroll like this?" He whispered, turning it around and inspecting. He was half-tempted to just let Bill have a look at it. The scroll was way too magical for it to just erase what was on it. After all, why would the ancient Egyptian wizards put such important protections on it?

In fact, why was it with the amulet…

Ron had something of a revelation. The amulet revealed things. The scroll was hiding something. If you put those two together…

Ron summoned the amulet to his neck, then held the glass eyepiece up to his eye. Sure enough, green lines appeared on the tent, all emanating from the pole at the top which held it up. The lines were perfectly symmetrical and would have to be looked at later.

But for now, Ron looked at the scroll using the eyepiece.

Lines of ink danced around on the scroll's surface, twisting and turning randomly. It was almost hypnotic, in a beautiful sort of way. Still, it didn't really help him understand what the point of the scroll was. It was pretty, but useless.

Then Ron remembered that the artifacts followed commands, like summons and desires to become weightless. Ron willed the scroll to tell him what its purpose was.

The scroll heated up slightly and glowed. The lines on the scroll merged and solidified to become English text. Ron leaned in to look at what it was saying

**Wielder of the Amulet**

**This is the Scroll of Answers. It contains all of the knowledge held by the previous Wielders. At your command, all of the knowledge held within is for you to examine.**

Ron blinked. "So… you can tell me things?"

**Yes**

Ron was still slightly suspicious. Memories of the diary still ran rampant in his mind. The diary had been just like the Scroll, innocent at first. It could hold more than what he could see right now, and it might not be safe.

Still… it seemed more like a house elf than the diary. Ginny had poured her heart out to the diary, which took advantage of her. The Scroll seemed more like something he got answers from, like one of his textbooks.

And if it gave answers, then Ron could ask it questions - specifically, questions about the amulet.

_Scroll, what is the amulet?_

The Scroll soon replied

**The Amulet of Glass is the tool that the Wielders may use. With it, all forms of magic may be revealed, and those are viewed with it will show the form of the Anima within.**

Anima?

_Scroll, what is an Anima?_

**The Anima is the monstrous representation of a person's personality and appearance. A limited number exist, yet all are viewable from the use of the Amulet. Only the Wielder may awaken an Anima using the Amulet.**

So… the Amulet could show a monster, that 'represented a person's personality and appearance'... whatever that meant.

Still…

Ron put the Scroll down and turned to look at Percy's sleeping body. At least, that was what he looked like without the Amulet. With the Amulet, Ron could see that instead of Percy on the bed, a strange brown dog with a back of blue fur and a mustache slept instead.

Ron put the Amulet back down, and the dog was replaced with Percy again.

So that was Percy's Anima? It was definitely strange, to see a dog-like monster sleep in the same spot Percy was, especially if he looked to the mattress with one eye to the Amulet and another normal. Two beings occupying the same space gave him a little bit of a headache.

Ron looked back at the Scroll. It mentioned something about 'awakening' the Anima. While the strange dog was asleep, Ron figured that it was because Percy was asleep, not because it hadn't been 'awakened'.

_Scroll, what do you mean when you say 'awaken'?_

**Through the process of awakening, one will gain the ability to turn into the form of their Anima and gain all of the powers the Anima wields. However, be warned - the process of awakening is incredibly difficult, causing incredible pain the first time one undergoes it.**

**To awaken, one must hold the Amulet in one's hand and say the incantation 'Excitare Anima'**

Ron blinked. "Excitare Anima? What kind of a stupid incantation-"

Then the amulet began to tighten around his neck before it once again burst into flame. Ron cursed, then wrestled with the amulet, trying to take it off. No matter how hard he pushed this time, though, the flames grew brighter and brighter, before spreading to the rest his body.

Ron fell to the ground, collapsed in pain. The fire burned deeper and deeper into him, going down into his bone. Ron would scream, except that he had lost all feeling in his mouth ages ago.

Soon the world was a haze to him as he barely managed to stay conscious.

How much time passed, Ron couldn't tell. Perhaps it was months. Perhaps it was years. Maybe it was just a few seconds? All Ron knew was that it was unbearable.

Then slowly… ever so slowly… the pain receded. Ron slowly managed to gather his focus.

He stood up… on four legs.

…

…

…

Was he going insane? What happened to him?

Rom tried to stand up on two legs, _not_ four! But as he tried to balance, he fell over backward and bounced against the mattress.

"I'm dreaming. I'm definitely dreaming." Ron muttered to himself. Except, the words came out of him as a series of growls instead of English words.

Ron slowly clambered to his feet- no, they were _paws_, not feet. His _paws_ were orange with black pads and two white claws. Ron took a look at his dog-like legs, which were also orange, with a v-like black strip across it.

He was… a dog. An orange dog.

Ron slowly put one leg forward, then another. Then he put a third forward and tripped over himself.

After ten minutes or so of trying out this… Anima form. Ron was able to walk somewhat effectively. He still had balance issues but could walk from one point to another with only minimal amounts of difficulty.

Ron walked out of the tent and headed to the oasis, where his family had collected water from for drinking. Standing at the bank, he looked at his reflection.

An orange dog stared back at him, a beige ruff adorning its snout and large, round ears twitching every now and again.

Ron tilted his head, and the dog did the same thing.

Well, that confirmed it. He was this strange dog thing. Ron sighed, tired beyond all belief - then jumped as a spurt of flame jumped out of his mouth.

He… he could breathe fire!

Ron tried to breathe fire again and saw a tongue of fire leap out of his mouth and onto the oasis in front of him, sizzling to nothing in front of his eyes.

Ron played a little bit with the fire, spitting out ember after ember. It was fun to breathe fire, to see the dancing smoke exit your mouth with your throat hot and your blood racing.

But Ron was getting tired, and the night was waning. And Ron _really_ didn't want to explain to Mum and Dad that he was now an orange dog that could breathe fire.

Ron walked back to his and Percy's tent, and with some difficulty opened the scroll again. He could see all of the lines on the Scroll clearly. In fact, he saw the glowing green lines as well, which lined all of the tents, not just his and Percy's.

_Scroll, how do I get back to being a human?_

The lines turned back into words.

**To return to your original form from your Anima form, imagine your form as a human and believe yourself to be one. You will soon transform back. If you wish to return to the Anima form, imagine yourself as the Anima form and turn into it, or use the incantation.**

Was it really that easy?

Ron closed his eyes, imagining himself as a human, standing on two legs, without heavy fur, unable to breathe fire. Ron opened his eyes again and was standing up as a human, fully clothed and back to normal.

Ron was tired - very, very tired. Still, he wanted to try one more thing. He closed his eyes one more time and willed himself to be the dog monster again, with all of the features too.

Soon, Ron opened his eyes again, as a four-legged creature of fire. Ron breathed a little bit of fire, satisfied with the transformation. Ron turned back into a human and slowly put the Scroll away, hiding it from view. Then Ron collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep as he did so.\

He was done for the night - so very, very done.

* * *

**This is my attempt at a Harry Potter story, and yes, Ron will be the main character for the most part. Ron is an interesting character and one I feel gets strangely underappreciated in Fanfiction when compared to the glories Draco and Snape get. To be more precise, this is a Pokemon Animagus fanfiction - although it will probably go beyond that as the story rolls on. **

**If anyone reading would like to beta this story, or know someone who would like to beta this story, then please, let me know. Thank you for reading the first chapter - from now on, updates will hopefully be synchronized with one of my other fanfics, The Mechanic's Journey.**

**If you like reading this chapter, don't be afraid to follow or favorite, and please, if at all possible, leave a review. I read them for feedback.**

**Thank you for your time and patience.**

**Metagrossite**


	2. The Aaksabil

"Well, Ron, are you ready?" Charlie asked him, walking through the desert. "We have some work today." His brother grinned as he gripped his wand, whistling a merry tune as we walked across the sand.

Ron groaned, sweat dripping down his neck. "Do you do this every day?"

His brother nodded eagerly. "It's a treat to be in a hot country for once. Romania is rather cold, you know, and there are plenty of interesting magical creatures in the desert to enjoy."

"Enjoy…" Ron could hardly believe what his brother was saying. "You _like_ this?"

Charlie nodded. "It's always too stuffy for me to be indoors for too long. Someplace like this is right up my alley, Ron."

Ron loosened his collar a little bit. "Do you have _brooms_ or something, at least?"

Charlie laughed. "Oh, we have something _better_ than that - but that's for the ride back. For now, we're traveling to Cairo - there are some potion ingredients I can buy here that are rather expensive back in Europe."

They were going to Cairo for _shopping_?!

Ron groaned even louder. "Are we there yet?"

"No, Ron. It'll take another hour of walking before we get to Cairo." Charlie started whistling. "So get comfortable!"

Ron moaned. "This is awful…"

Ten minutes later, he was feeling no cooler nor did he feel any more likely to start enjoying today. He would rather be back at the pyramid - at least there were fun things to look at there, rather than the bleak misery of the Egyptian desert.

He would give anything to be Scabbers right now. The damn bloody rat was napping away in his pocket, right next to his pathetic excuse for a wand.

The amulet was heavy around his neck. Ron idly wished that it would be a little less heavy, then grinned as it became a little less cumbersome.

Right, he could command the artifacts to do as he pleased. Ron then had a wonderful idea, which split his face with a grin. With a mental command, he ordered the amulet to cool itself down, and therefore start cooling him down.

The amulet, like the wonderful artifact it was, started siphoning the awful heat from his skin. Ron breathed a sigh of relief - finally, the heat wasn't so _unbearable_!

Ron started fiddling with the amulet under his clothes. The strange artifact was intriguing. From what the scroll said last night, he could see magic and 'animas' with it - though Ron was still confused on what an Anima could be.

Percy was a strange brown dog thing, and Ron himself was… well, it was a bit like a tiger and a bit like a dog but wasn't really like either.

Ron pulled the amulet out. From what the scroll said, every person had their own anima - including Charlie. Ron put the glass eyepiece of the amulet up to his own and looked at Charlie, making sure Charlie wasn't looking at him as he did so.

In Charlie's place was another dog - and this one was black and green. Ron could almost hear the dog bark and yip as Charlie prattled on and on about the various beasts he seen on his journey.

That dog-like thing was an Anima… were they all dogs? Ron liked the occasional puppy or two, yes, but if the manifestation of everyone's soul was just another mutt…

Ron shook his head, and pulled the amulet from his eye - and just in time too, as Charlie took the opportunity to look back at him then and there.

"You doing alright, Ron?"

Ron nodded. "Er, yeah, I guess."

"Gotten used to the heat yet?" Ron shrugged wordlessly. "Alright, then."

They continued to walk, Ron listening to each one of Charlie's tales about what happened in Romania, ranging from wild and fantastic, to so boring they'd make Binns himself fall asleep.

"Hey, Ron, listen to this one, you'll find it interesting for your Care of Magical Creatures class - great choice, by the way!" Charlie kept on prattling, and Ron wished that they would arrive eventually, especially with the awful smell permeating his nose.

Ron rubbed his nose as they walked on - but the awful smell only got more pungent.

"Urgh, Charlie, what is that awful smell?"

Charlie laughed. "What do you mean, Ron?"

"I mean someone threw rancid cheese and year-old garlic in the air, that's what I mean!" Ron snapped. "Did you let a monster loose or what?"

Charlie sniffed the air. "No, I don't smell anything. Hold on, I'll use a Supersensory Charm." Charlie waved his wand over his nose and sniffed again. "Now that you mention it, there's this weird odor coming from… there?" Charlie pointed off somewhere to their right.

Ron squinted his eyes and could barely make out some sort of wild animal. "Did that lion roll around in its own dung or something, Charlie?"

"I don't lions like bathing in their scat, Ron. I'll head over and see what it is." Charlie started walking to where the beast was, but Ron held onto his arm.

"If that thing stinks from all the way over here, then Mum will throw a fit when we come back. Let's just leave it, Charlie."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'll clean up with a charm once I've satisfied my curiosity, Ron." Then Charlie must have come across a particularly bad whiff from the beast because he then crossed his eyes. "On second thought, I'll just use a Supersensory Charm from over here."

Charlie waved his wand over his eyes, as he squinted off into the distance. "It looks like… it looks like…" Charlie's face paled whiter than Ron had ever seen it. "Oh, hell… Oh, _bloody_ hell."

"What is it?" Ron tried to look harder at the beast off in the distance, which seemed to be walking toward them. "What is it?"

"It's a Nundu…" Charlie seized Ron's arm. "We're Apparating - _now_!"

With an awful squeezing sensation, the two of them popped into thin air. Ron felt his insides stretch and squeeze as though they were made of putty or taffy. After only a second's wait, they arrive with another pop in some busy city street.

As passers-by chatted and laughed in Egyptian or Arabic or whatever language they spoke in Cairo, Charlie dug around in his pockets and pulled out a slip of paper. "Okay, okay… across from the textile shop, next to the mosque…"

"Charlie? Charlie, what are you doing?" Ron asked, slightly perturbed at how frantic his brother was. "What's gotten into you?"

"... right, right, between the mosque and the restaurant!" Charlie shoved the slip of paper back into his pockets and started running. "Keep up, Ron!"

"Charlie, what's going on?!"

"A Nundu is going on, Ron," Charlie answered tersely. "And if we don't act now, many, _many_ people are going to die!"

"What do you mean? What's a Nundu?!" Ron was feeling out of his depth, and from how Charlie was taking this, this was something he _should_ know.

Charlie didn't answer, though - he simply kept on running through the streets of Cairo, ignoring Ron's demands for answers. Soon enough, Ron was struggling just to keep up with his brother.

"Ch-Charlie, wait!" He pled, but Charlie chugged on without them. A few times, Charlie was so ahead of him that he lost sight of him - though Charlie came into sight soon afterward.

Then Charlie stopped. "Ron, are you still here?!"

Ron came up to Charlie, panting. "W-wait!" Ron coughed from the exertion. "Wh-what's a Nundu? Why are you so afraid of it?!"

"I'll explain in a minute, Ron, but now we need to notify the Egyptian Ministry about the Nundu." Charlie took a couple of deep breaths and pulled the slip of paper from his pockets again. "Okay, Bill's direction say that making a moon shape with your wand will be good enough to get inside."

Charlie went to a brick wall, pulled out this wand, and traced a moon shape. Suddenly, Ron felt a sharp headache as the wall began to ripple as though it was a pool of water.

Charlie sighed in relief. "Oh, it worked. Come on, Ron!" Charlie jumped into the rippling wall. With nothing else to do, Ron jumped in after him.

Through the other side of the wall, Ron found the same street they were on - except instead of various muggles wearing jeans or pants or anything like that, everyone here was wearing traditional Egyptian robes (as far as Ron could tell).

"Charlie, is this the Egyptian Diagon Alley?" There was no response. "Charlie?"

Charlie was trying to flag down various several Egyptian wizards, who looked to be in no rush to pay attention to him. Each wizard that ignored him only served to irritate and worry Charlie more.

"Nundu! There is a Nundu outside of Cairo!" Charlie pled with the Egyptian wizards.

"Charlie, what is a Nundu?!"

Charlie turned to Ron. "A Nundu, Ron, is perhaps the most dangerous magical creature in the world. A single Nundu can kill thousands if left unchecked! I'd rather take on seven werewolves, five dragons, and a basilisk rather than a single Nundu - they need over a hundred wizards to take down, Ron! And one is _heading our way_!"

Ron's blood went cold. "You… you're not lying, are you?" Charlie's face was the most serious Ron had ever seen it. "_Bloody_ hell. What are we going to do, Charlie?"

Charlie huffed. "We're going to get more wizards to help us deal with this problem. There's no wizard who's ever beaten back a Nundu without the help of at least a hundred others. We're going to get help for this - but they need to realize that THERE IS A NUNDU!"

The last part was shouted out loud for all of the wizards and witches in Egyptian Diagon Alley to hear. The problem was that all of them looked at Charlie with confusion written all over their ignorant faces - not to mention a few angry mutterings. Charlie grabbed his hair in anger, turning to Ron.

"They don't understand English. Stay here, Ron - I'm going to get Bill, he probably understands at least a little bit of Arabic or Egyptian. He can at least get them to understand the problem. I'll be back in ten minutes. Don't talk to anyone, if anyone offers you anything refuse, you get the point, bye!"

Before Ron could protest or ask Charlie to stay for a few more seconds to help him understand, Charlie immediately disapparated away.

Ron was left slack-jawed in the bustling Egyptian Diagon Alley. There was nothing left to do but wait for Charlie.

Ron sat down on the nearby pavement, earning clucking looks of disapproval from the wizards that passed by. He shot them dirty looks in return but still didn't do anything.

After all, what could he really do? This wasn't like Aragog - he couldn't run away from the Nundu, it was still heading toward Cairo. He couldn't deal with the Nundu like he did the troll either - he was only a Hogwarts student on his summer vacation!

In fact, even if he was allowed to use magic, there was still nothing he could do to help. His wand was still the same useless old spark creator. Ron was lucky he was able to use at all yesterday, and that was only with many, many prods.

Ron pulled out the wand, which was holding on by a hair in all senses. Just out of morbid curiosity, he waved it around - and it snapped.

Well, there the old wand went. He was without magic for the foreseeable future. He really should have seen this coming. Ron tucked the two halves of his wand into his pocket, planning to give it to Charlie back if they both survived the day.

So now what could he do? He had absolutely nothing at his disposal - no magic that could help him, no Egyptian or Arabic to warn the wizard of Egypt… nothing. All he could do is wait for Charlie and hope that he would make it in time to stop the Nundu. There was nothing Ron could do to help, as he had nothing but the clothes on his back…

… and the amulet.

Ron took the amulet out and considered it. It was a long shot… but maybe it could help him out, somehow. The scroll said it could see Animas and make magic visible.

Ron didn't know that much about Animas yet, and he was still unsure if his puppy form was actually useful in any capacity other than starting a fire without magic. But the thing about seeing magic visible… it was worth a shot, more than anything else he could do (other than shouting "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ENGLISH?!" to random passers-by, which would probably get him sent to Egyptian St. Mungos).

So, out of options, Ron put the eyepiece of the amulet to his eye… and found nothing. Or rather, nothing that could help him find the Nundu.

All of the wizards of the Egyptian Diagon Alley appeared as strange monsters in the view of the eyepiece. One look like a giant floating pumpkin, while another looked like a flying bee. Another was even a bell - a _bell_!

So not all of the monsters were dogs, then. Interesting, but right now it's useless.

Other than that, all he could see were the same green glowing lines as yesterday. They went all throughout the alley, lighting up each and every storefront with barely contained magic. It didn't look half bad, Ron had to admit - magic was enthralling, even when seen in a plainly visible form.

Still… they were just lines of enchantment and runes. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then Ron noticed something, as he was slowly learning to do out of plain necessity. The lines… they weren't completely random. The ones on the ground… they were curved, and turning. The magic in the ground was active somehow, not like the magic in the tents back at the camp or the magic in the stores.

Ron followed the curved lines down the street, distantly aware that Charlie would probably be returning soon with Bill in tow. He walked down the alley until he came to some sort of central square, where many storefronts were open and selling their merchandise.

What's more, in all of the openings to the central square were curving lines, all spinning around some central fountain in the middle.

The fountain was clearly magical - though how, exactly, he didn't know. Either way, it led him no closer to a way to stop the Nundu. With a sigh, Ron dropped the eyepiece…

… and the fountain disappeared.

Ron's mouth gaped as the entire structure disappeared, leaving nothing but an empty square in its place. Ron hurriedly put the eyepiece back on and the fountain reappeared, a crystalline liquid flowing in a perpetual cycle.

"There's an _invisible _fountain in the middle of Egyptian Diagon Alley. What the bloody hell."

Then an old, wizened voice rang out behind him. "This street is called the Aaksabil, not 'Egyptian Diagon Alley' - though they serve much the same purpose, mind you."

Ron turned to see a strange tall old man sitting down on the pavement. The man was wearing rather strange clothes for a wizard - in fact, it looked rather muggle in its entirety.

"The… Aaksabil?" Ron finally managed.

"One of the greatest feats of architecture the ancient wizards of Egypt have ever built. It's enchanted to magically appear in whatever capital the current muggle Egypt is in - that way they could always be accessible to the current Pharoah." The old man's voice was like sandpaper, yet Ron found he was able to follow along.

"And as for the fountain? It's from even earlier, from the time of the Macrobians."

"The what?"

"The Macrobians. Ancient civilization, never bothered writing anything down, people of legend, you get the picture. The Macrobian wizards enchanted the fountain to follow a large group of magical signatures, to help out any other wayward Macrobian wizards. Then it found the Aaksabil, and here it has stayed. It's a Fountain of Youth - if you drink the water you'll return to an earlier age."

Ron blinked. "So… you get younger if you drink it?"

"Yep. Seems like a pretty good deal, if you ask me - free life for as long as you want, as long as you don't muck it up and get yourself murdered."

Something about the fountain reminded of Ron about something, but it was only until he looked at the rubies lining the exterior of the fountain that he put it together. "This is like the Elixir of Life!"

"Yeah, Flamel was the last person to find the fountain. Took one look at it and decided to dissect it with Alchemy. One decade later and he pops out the Philosopher's Stone, to make his own immortality - and gold, when he felt like it."

"Last person to find the fountain?"

"The fountain isn't just invisible - it's also undetectable, not just to muggles, but to wizards that don't come from Macrobia - which is all of them, now. Flamel had some magic draining runic array or something when he visited the Aaksabil, which allowed him to temporarily break through the protection. You used that amulet to see right through the enchantment."

So Ron was the latest wizard to find this Fountain of Youth? He felt some sort of inordinate pleasure at this - he, not Harry, not Hermione, not Bill or Percy or the twins or Ginny, found this place.

He couldn't wait to tell everyone once he got back with Char…

… oh, no.

"The Nundu!" HE had completely forgotten, enraptured with this fountain.

"I beg your pardon?" The old man asked. "What Nundu are you talking about?"

"There's a Nundu on its way to Cairo! It's going to kill everyone!"

The old man looked troubled. "That's a pressing issue, isn't it? Why don't you warn the Egyptian Ministry, then?"

"Because I can't talk in Arabic!" Ron explained. "I just know English - that's it!"

The old man smiled. "I think I can help you with that." The old man took out a bronze ring from his pocket and waved his hand over it. "Right now I enchanted this ring so that you can understand what anyone says, and vice versa. Be warned, though - I'm not as strong as I used to be, so this will only last an hour." He tossed the ring to Ron. "Make good use of it."

Ron fumbled with the ring. "H-How?"

"The enchantment? Oh, it's a little spell I made up, makes talking much easier."

"No, how did you enchant it?"

"Wandless magic, boy." The old man's eyes sharpened. "Ah, right, you're a European - you folks like your wands. Most spells in Africa don't need a wand - if you went to Uagadou, you would know that."

Ron ignored the slight at Europe to thank the old man. "Thank you, Mr…" He realized he never asked for a name.

"Call me Al-Fazeta, Wielder," The old man replied. "And good luck." With that, the man walked into a side-path leading from one of the buildings. When Ron tried to follow, the man was gone.

Ron was dumbfounded - but then realized that he had no time to investigate mysteries like this. He had to deal with the Nundu before it could get any closer to Cairo than it already did.

Now, with the ring Al-Fazeta had given him, he could understand most of what the Egyptians were saying, though it sounded a little strange and fuzzy at some points as if the meanings didn't _quite_ have the same 'weight' or some other abstract metric English equivalents did.

He managed to get directions to the Egyptian Ministry - eat some 'manna', which was this wibbly yellow food that slid down Ron's throat. Then Ron found himself spinning uncontrollably, before finding himself in an immaculate Atrium.

From there, Ron explained to the situation to a nearby guard, who immediately raised an alarm. A pair of robed wizards appeared silently, nodding to the guard.

"Before we do any preparations for such an attack, we must verify what you say as true." The guard explained to Ron. "This won't hurt terribly, but please remain silent."

Before Ron could ask what they meant or what they were going to do, the two robed wizards each placed one of their hands on each of Ron's eyes.

Ron's head was instantly wracked with headaches as he collapsed to the floor. In his head, he was forcibly remembering everything that had occurred earlier that morning, starting with walking up, to traveling with Charlie and smelling the Nundu, ending with them entering Cairo. Strangely, Ron couldn't remember anything involving the amulet.

Soon, the robed wizards removed their hands from Ron's eyes, faces ashen white.

"He's not lying - there really was a Nundu." One of them spoke. The guard paled as well. "We have to go amass forces to fight them, _now_!"

The two robed wizards fled back into the Ministry as the guard raised an alarm, which blared in an incomprehensible message in sirens. Ron, for his part, was incredibly dazed, barely managing to sit up.

"What… what did they do to me?" Ron asked the guard, who was shaking in his boots… sandals. Shaking in his sandals.

His question was quickly answered by the guard, who was close to panicking. "Legilimency, mind reading, there's a NUNDU!" Correction, the guard _was_ panicking.

At that point, an hour had passed since Al-Fazeta had given him that copper ring. The guard's words soon transformed into gibberish.

After that, everything was mostly a blur. Nobody had bothered him since everyone was busy helping kill the Nundu. Ron wandered around the mostly empty Ministry, worried and powerless.

Then, a few hours later, the wizards started returning, with various looks of relief on their faces. Somehow, Ron knew the Nundu was dead and breathed his own sigh of relief.

A few minutes after the wizards started returning from the battle with the Nundu, some officials came over to him to start questioning him about the whole affair. They soon became frustrated, though, when they couldn't understand him.

They then brought out some English-speaking wizards, who managed to translate the questions for him. Luckily, they were all easy questions - how did you first become aware of the Nundu, how did you talk to the wizards earlier (he answered a magic ring, which they seemed to strangely accept), etc.

Ron learned, by asking some questions of his own, that over five hundred wizards had been recruited from across Africa to help take down the Nundu. Ron privately thought that it was a little bit excessive until he learned that seventeen wizards had died trying to take it down.

The officials thanked him for protecting the Statute of Secrecy and gave him a small pouch of gold for his troubles.

Then Charlie found him, followed by Bill and Dad. "Ron! There you are!"

Ron was quickly swamped by his brothers and father, who began firing questions rapidly at him, though these were more toward what happened after Charlie had left him in the Aaksabil.

Ron painstakingly told them an edited version of what happened, without mentioning the amulet (which they probably thought was either nonexistent or cursed) - Ron wandered in the Aaksabil, met an old man who knew English, the old man gave him a magic ring that could translate for him ("no, Bill, you can't have the ring. It only worked for an hour, anyway"), and he warned the Ministry.

Dad allowed him to keep the gold, thankfully, saying that he could use them to buy a replacement wand back in Diagon Alley. Dad also told him not to tell the twins about the gold, for rather obvious reasons.

Within an hour they returned back to the camp, exhausted. Charlie must have warned the entire family, and they were all looking terribly anxious. Once they returned, Mum started berating him for running off and causing them to worry. Ron wanted to protest that he had been busy saving Cairo, but was ultimately too tired to offer up anything resembling resistance.

* * *

Several hours later, Ron was sitting alone in his and Percy's tent, feeling the weight of the day finally leave his shoulders. Percy was snoring in his tent as usual, and the rest of the Weasely family was asleep as well - Ron had checked.

Ron didn't know what he was going to do right now. He didn't feel tired, which was rather bizarre considering the excitement of the day. Scabbers slept on like usual - actually, Ron didn't remember Scabbers _do_ anything since this morning. He was probably rather hungry.

Ron decided that staying around on his bed wouldn't accomplish anything. He wasn't feeling tired, anyway, and they were leaving back for Britain tomorrow, anyway. Last night Mum decided to cut the trip short and go back home. There was no reason to go to sleep early.

Ron crossed the camp and sat by the oasis, leaning back on a palm tree. Looking out at the night sky, he saw that the stars out in Africa were much more visible than they were back in Britain - Astronomy would have been much easier.

As he looked, the amulet shited around on his neck, and he took a spare second to look at it. Once again it had helped him… which raised one final question.

Was it worth keeping?

The scroll, Al-Fazeta… they had called him the 'Wielder' of the amulet, almost as if it were a wand or something. Still, Ron didn't feel as if it was a weapon. It felt remarkably different, more like a tool.

There was something to be said about trusting random magical artifacts. The last time he and Harry trusted something unknown like this, it had tried to kill them and get Hagrid locked up in Azkaban. Not to mention that it had burned him back in the pyramid - Ran still could feel the burn marks from back then.

But… other than the burning, the amulet had _helped_ him. Without it, he wouldn't have found the fountain in the Aaksabil and wouldn't have found Al-Fazeta. Since Bill apparently didn't know many words in Arabic, the Nundu would have gone unstopped without resistance.

Plus, he got some gold out of the deal as well.

That… and the amulet gave him the Anima transformation.

Ron closed his eyes, remembering the instructions from the scroll, transformed into the strange fire-breathing dog from last night - his Anima. Looking into the oasis's pool, he looked at himself again.

The same dog looked back at him again. Ron faintly remembered Charlie talking about Crups on the trip to Cairo, but this was probably not a Crup.

Ron was faintly curious as to what this Anima was. Hopefully, it gave him some neat powers other than breathing fire, too. But he was the only one who knew what the Anima were, so there was nothing he could ask…

… except for the scroll.

Ron transformed back and headed back into the tent, where he pulled out the scroll from where he had hidden it this morning. Opening it and putting the amulet to his eye, he asked another question.

_Scroll, what is my Anima?_

The scroll flashed and shimmered, before a picture of his dog form appeared, with words describing it underneath.

**Growlithe**

**Category: Puppy Anima**

**Abilities: Intimidate, Flash Fire, Justified**

**Type: Fire**

**Description: Growlithe is a friendly, loyal, and protective Anima. Anything it considers as its own it will endlessly protect and guard. Its sense of smell is incredibly powerful and refined - all scents are permanently stored in their memory. It can even smell emotions with its nose.**

**Evolves into: Arcanine**

The scroll kept on spitting out information on things like 'Base Stats', 'Moves', 'Egg Groups', and 'Gender Ratios'. Ron couldn't even understand half of what the Scroll was telling him - he barely understood what was on the scroll.

Luckily, the description was understandable, mostly. From what Ron could understand, his Anima was a Growlithe. Last night, the scroll said something about the Anima matching each person, so… that meant he was protective and stuff.

Ron grabbed the amulet. Ever since he had transformed, he had been unwilling to show anyone the amulet. He must already consider it 'his', then.

Then Ron looked at the second half of the description, namely the bit about its nose. Ron didn't particularly feel like his nose was any stronger when he was a Growlithe. Still, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

Ron transformed into a Growlithe, before sniffing the air.

Then Ron realized that something in his head was blocking out his sense of smell before now. Every scent from the camp to the pyramids lodged itself firmly in his brain, somewhere where he _couldn't_ forget about it, no matter how distracted he got. Ron quickly switched back into a human, but the smells were still stuck in his brain.

If the scroll was right, he would _never_ be able to forget about the scent of George's three-day-old dung or the perfume Mum bought two nights ago from some shady salesman.

Still, at least Ron understood how he could smell the Nundu earlier today. He could smell the coconuts on top of the palm tree of the oasis - and they didn't even smell that much! Something as noxious as a Nundu would be easy to smell like this.

So the amulet had been even more important than he thought it had been, toward defeating the Nundu…

Ron took another look at the scroll, before asking it about the other Animas he had seen - Charlie's and Percy's.

**Herdier**

**Category: Loyal Dog Anima**

**Abilities: Intimidate, Sand Rush, Scrappy**

**Type: Normal**

**Description: Herdier is an Anima that is fanatically loyal to any authority it follows, obeying most orders without question. It is dismissive of anything it doesn't respect, refusing to listen to it on principle. It has a habit of mentoring any underlings it has, raising them under its mold. Its cape-like fur on its back is incredibly strong, protecting it from many different kinds of attacks.**

**Evolves from: Lillipup**

**Evolves into: Stoutland**

This… Herdier… was about as good a description of Percy as you could get. Strict, rude, and nagging. For a brief second, Ron wondered how Percy would react if he saw what the scroll said about his Anima.

Of course, he wouldn't show it to Percy - he'd probably confiscate it against Ron's protests and give it to Mum and Dad.

Next was Charlie's Anima.

**Zygarde - 10% Form**

**Category: Order Anima**

**Abilities: Aura Break, Power Construct**

**Type: Dragon, Ground**

**Description: Zygarde is an Anima that attacks those who harm the ecosystem and environment. When a tenth of its cells is gathered, the 10% form emerges. The 10% form is powerful, capable of taking on many combatants at close range by sinking its powerful fangs into them. It can run over 100 kilometers per hour.**

**No Evolutions**

What in Merlin's greasy hair is a 'cell'?

**Cells are the basic units of life. All life is composed of cells or combinations of cells. Cells can be divided into prokaryotes and eukaryotes, depending on how complex their insides are. Prokaryotes...**

The scroll went on and on about cells, which Ron duly ignored, as he didn't actually care what cells were.

But, back to Zygarde… it has different forms… and no evolutions...

Ron shook his head. Hermione would probably be able to figure all of this out if he showed it to her. He would probably show it to Harry and Hermione when he saw them next - it wouldn't be fair of him if he kept this all to himself.

Anyway, the exhaustion was finally creeping up on him. Ron was feeling tired enough to fall asleep. He hid the scroll again as well as the amulet.

With a small grin on his face, Ron fell asleep.

* * *

_Dear Harry, _

_Happy birthday! _

_Look, I'm really sorry about that telephone call. I hope the Muggles didn't give you a hard time. I asked Dad, and he reckons I shouldn't have shouted. _

_It's amazing here in Egypt. Bill's taken us around all the tombs and you wouldn't believe the curses those old Egyptian wizards put on them. Mum wouldn't let Ginny come in the last one. There were all these mutant skeletons in there, of Muggles who'd broken in and grown extra heads and stuff._

_I couldn't believe it when Dad won the Daily Prophet Draw. Seven hundred galleons! Most of it's gone on this trip, but they're going to buy me a new wand for next year. _

_We'll be back about a week before term starts and we'll be going up to London to get my wand and our new books. Any chance of meeting you there? _

_Don't let the Muggles get you down! _

_Try and come to London, _

_Ron_

_P.S. Percy's Head Boy. He got the letter last week. _

The letter, a few days old, laid rumpled in the attic locked away and hidden. Next to it rested all of his homework. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't able to work on it since Aunt Marge had come to visit like she does every few years or so.

Of course, it wasn't only Aunt Marge this time around. Maybe, just maybe, Harry would have been able to grit his teeth through her rants and whining. But Uncle Vernon wasn't the only one to have family over.

Aunt Petunia's Muggle cousin, Ferris Evans, was visiting from America, on a business trip for some technology company. Harry had held a brief if temporary hope that he would be more… hospitable to Harry than the rest of his family had been.

That hope was quickly dashed when he looked at Harry with the same snootiness that the rest of his family did. Upon the first few words of insults Evans shouted at him, Harry learned to grit his teeth even harder when facing the man.

His son wasn't too much better, either. Farran Evans was what you would get if you Hermione and removed all of the kindness from within her. Farran didn't insult him, not as everyone else did, but could care less about him. He was always stuck in some Muggle book, going over 'biology' and 'chemistry'.

Having to deal not only with Marge but these two strangers taxed him. Luckily, he had managed to keep his agreement with Uncle Vernon so far - no mentioning magic for the duration of the week, and the Hogsmeade form would get signed.

Since there were no other rooms in the house and Evans refused to rent a room at a hotel (they overcharge way too much, I won't be bothered to pay that much for a week), Harry had to move from his room up to the attic.

What's more, he wasn't even alone up there. Evans wished to be alone when he did his work at home. He immediately deemed Dudley's room too unfit (it was in too much disrepair for him to deem acceptable for Farran's use) and decided that Farran would sleep in the attic as well.

Farran didn't mind, even if Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia protested. One sharp glance from Evans put them in their place, though.

Harry personally suspected that Evans did this to spite him, judging from the hate-filled looks he gave him. Why give him the night off, after all?

In the end, Harry was praying that the man would leave as soon as possible. Thankfully, by some freak coincidence, both Evans and Aunt Marge's visit ended on the same day.

And that day was _today_. All of his patience was finally paying off.

All he had to do was survive this one last night, and they would all be leaving early tomorrow morning.

"Petunia!" Aunt Marge roared, face reddened from all the wine she had been drinking. "More wine!"

Aunt Petunia tittered. "But Marge-" She stopped short at the stubborn face Aunt Marge was making, and sighed. "Oh, I'll bring out another bottle."

The seven of them sat around the dinner table. Uncle Vernon and Dudley continued pigging out, like usual, while Aunt Petunia ate her modest portions. Aunt Marge kept on feasting, never stopping shoveling food into her gaping maw, only punctuating it by gorging herself on Aunt Petunia's wine and brandy.

Evans ate modestly, as Aunt Petunia did, in deep conversation with Uncle Vernon. They discussed drills and advancements in construction technology or something like that. Of course, it was mostly one-sided - Uncle Vernon was a salesman, not a manufacturer, and had drunk himself into a stupor. Evans hadn't touched the alcohol, meanwhile.

"... not to mention the rising price of steel, Vernon. They're interfering with the production of…" Harry could barely follow along, though Farran could easily, judging from the focus held within his eyes and how little he ate his food.

Finally, Evans stood up. "My apologies, Vernon, but Farran and I need to rest for the night. We must be at the station very early tomorrow - the plane for Washington is leaving at seven thirty."

Harry almost cheered but silenced himself. But even if he didn't, it wouldn't have been noticed because of Farran's widened eyes.

"Father!" He shouted across the table, standing up. "We can't!"

Evans's eyes widened. "And why not?!" He sharply bit out. The table was silent as father and son stared each other down. "The plane is already chartered, and I have a meeting I need to be present at tomorrow."

"But you promised me that I could visit the London Library during this trip - and you _still_ haven't taken me!"

Evans stared coldly at his son. "You'll have to go without, I'm afraid. It's too late for us to go - you should have pressed earlier."

Farran scoffed. "You told me to keep quiet during this trip!" Indeed, Farran was speaking more now than he had during the entirety of the trip. Harry, for the life of him, couldn't care less. He wouldn't see either of them after tonight.

"Enough is enough, Farran!" Evans's clipped tone cut through the air like a thick knife through butter. "Go to the attic and sleep. End of discussion." Evans started walking to his room, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief - finally, it was _over_.

But then something strange tingled on Harry's skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. A strange popping sound reverberated throughout the room.

Then, a large booming voice echoed. "STAY!" In Farran's voice, the single word echoed throughout the room.

And indeed, Evans found himself frozen in place, stuck in an awkward position.

Nobody could move. Nobody could breathe. Nobody to slide an inch from their spots but Farran, who was breathing heavily… before collapsing on the ground.

And like that, the spell was broken, and Harry could move again, only to find himself pinned by the glares of both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.

"Boy…" Harry frantically denied it, shaking his head, but they didn't seem to believe him judging by the continued glares.

Evans, meanwhile, picked himself off of the ground. "What… was that?! I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't blink!" He strode over to Farran, who was slowly pulling himself off the ground. "What did you just do?"

Then, Harry sealed his fate, and Farran's, by uttering one simple word.

"Magic."

Then, as if waiting for him to say such a thing, a brown owl flew into the room, circling it and startling Aunt Marge, before dropping a letter in Farran's hands.

Farran slowly pried the envelope open, and Harry could see emerald lettering on the letter. Then Farran began to read it aloud.

"Dear Mr. Evans. We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

And then Harry knew that things were going to get very, very complicated.

* * *

**So... who is Al-Fazeta, and who are Ferris and Farran Evans?**

**The Aaksabil is a little play on words, brownie points to the one that figures it out. Oh, and I wasn't the one that made up the Macrobians - google it.**

**Thank you to all of those that reviewed. I read each and every one of them and was glad to hear the support the story has gotten so far. If you have some theories or just enjoyed the chapter, feel free to follow or favorite, and if at all possible, leave a review if you wish.**

**Thank you, **

**Metagrossite**


	3. Floo Powder

Ron was beside himself. Finally, he would get his wand!

They had returned from Egypt only a few days ago. After they had gotten back on their feet in the Burrow, Ron asked Mum when they would go get a replacement wand for him.

Mum rolled her eyes, saying that the next time she went to Diagon Alley she would bring him along so that he could go to Ollivander's and get his first actual wand.

So Ron had to play the waiting game for a while, but then soon enough he realized that Mum didn't have any rush to go to Diagon Alley. Ron suspected that he would have to go when they were all picking up their school supplies.

That would take until the end of the summer, though - and Ron wanted his wand sooner than later.

So Ron, deciding that he _had_ been rather lucky lately, hatched his plan.

It was the middle of the night. Everyone in the burrow had already gone to sleep, Dad included. There wouldn't be any interruptions.

Ron, wide awake, crept out of his bed, making sure not to wake the blasted ghoul as he did so. Luckily, he was quiet enough, and he slowly opened the door.

Since he was at the top of the Burrow, he had many stairs to creep down. Other than a bit of gas he passed at Ginny's door, though, he managed to keep silent. He slowly made his way to the living room, minding the stair that creaked when you stepped on it the wrong way.

He then came across the fireplace and the Floo Powder inside.

In her free time, Mum made calls using the Floo, and Dad sometimes got calls from work from the Floo as well. Because we used the Floo so much, if we came close to emptying it, Mom would use Errol to order some Floo Powder from Diagon Alley.

But if it were to _all_ disappear, she would have to Apparate to Diagon Alley to buy some from Floo-Pow itself - and she would take him to get his wand.

All Ron had to do was get rid of the Floo Powder - and if he made it look like one of Fred and George's pranks, he would escape unharmed. It was foolproof!

Ron took the pot of Floo Powder in his hand, thinking. Now that he was here, how was he going to get rid of all the Floo Powder?

Eventually, Ron just dumped it all in the fireplace. Floo Powder could only be used once, so if he just ignited it, all of the Floo Powder would be used at once.

Then Ron heard voices, and he froze. Hiding behind one of the armchairs in the living room, he listened in closely.

"... hey, George, do you think we should add an extra Dungbomb this time?" He heard Fred joke.

"Don't bother, Fred. Five bombs are enough, we'll be in tears from the smell." George said. "And if it's too bad, Mum'll think it's us instead of Ronnikins!"

The gits! They're planting Dungbombs, aren't they?!

Ron smelled the air, and sure enough, the rotten smell of scat wafted into his nose making him gag. Lucky he wasn't a Growlithe right now, or he'd never get the smell out.

Then he heard the twins go silent.

"George, did you hear that?" Fred slowly said. "Something made a sound in the living room."

Ron held his breath.

"Do you think it's a gnome?" George asked. "We haven't degnomed since Egypt. Maybe one or two have gotten inside?"

"Go check, George, and I'll set the Dungbombs." Fred yawned. "Hurry up, too."

George walked into the living room, his footsteps thumping on the floorboard. Ron stood as still as possible, not daring to move a muscle.

A few seconds passed.

George yawned as well. "I don't know, Fred, maybe it was just the wind or a branch falling on the ground or something."

Ron heard Fred's footsteps on the ground. "I've set the Dungbombs under Ron's seat. Let's go back to sleep already."

As Fred and George started walking up the stairs, Ron let out a sigh of relief. Finally, they had left and he could go back to his trick.

Unfortunately, the sigh came out as a yawn.

A very _loud_ yawn.

The steps stopped.

"Fred, you heard that, right?" George nervously questioned, whipping out his wand toward the living room.

Fred nodded. "There's something here - are you sure you looked everywhere, George?" Fred pulled out his wand.

Ron nearly cursed to himself as Fred and George's footsteps approached again.

"You look behind the furniture, Fred. I'll check in the kitchen to make sure we didn't miss anything."

Ron had about five seconds before Fred found him and everything fell to pieces. He had to get back to his room without either Fred or George finding him. The Invisibility Cloak would make this so much easier, honestly.

All Ron had was his pajamas and the amulet under it…

… the Anima! He was smaller as an Anima - he could probably hide easier!

Ron transformed into the Growlite in only half a second and silently bounded out of Fred's vision as he looked into the spot Ron was in previously, and not a moment too soon.

Now all he had to do was escape back into his room and-

"Fred, I didn't find any- WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT?!"

George was right in front of him, pointing a shaking wand at Ron's Growlithe form. Behind him, Fred bumped his head and rubbed his head, looking up George.

"What are you talking about-" Fred finally found what George was pointing at. "What _is_ that?!"

Ron had to escape, _now_! But he couldn't go back into his room, so he had to improvise.

Ron ran as fast as possible into the fireplace, ignoring Fred and George's yelps and breathed a spout of flame into the fireplace, which quickly roared to emerald-green life. He jumped into the flame, taking him flying into the Floo Network.

Ron grew quickly grew dizzy as he barreled through fireplaces, feeling an overpowering need to vomit. Leaning forward, he fell out of another fireplace.

Ron slowly picked himself up, careful not to spit out another flame. A few embers still clung to him, though, which he quickly snuffed. It looked like the fire didn't hurt him much when he was in the form of a Growlithe.

Ron took a look around the room he was in. It was a small, cramped room, with a lot of parchment inside. Whirring oddities tinkled in every corner, making Ron wonder how anyone could live in this noisy racket.

Then, next to a bust of some lady, he found a…

… printing press?

Ron cautiously climbed the printing press and looked at what it was printing - the Quibbler, to be exact.

He was in the Lovegood's house.

Ron climbed down, causing some painting or whatever to clatter to the ground. If he was in the Lovegood's house, then he was near Ottery St. Catchpole - he could still slip back into his room if he was fast enough.

Ron climbed up again, this time to a window, and tried to push it open. Unfortunately, he didn't have hands, and his claws and fangs weren't nearly enough to open the lock.

Then a girl's hand reached out around him, deftly opening the lock. Ron twisted around, to see a scraggly haired blonde girl with strange eyes looking at him, before tilting her head to look at the embers still on the ground of the fireplace.

"Are you a Heliopath?" Her slightly timid voice rang out.

Ron didn't bother looking at the strange Lovegood girl, deciding to jump out of the house before she said anything else.

Of course, in the middle of the air, he realized that he was falling a good twenty or thirty feet or so. He managed to land on the ground on his feet, marveling that the landing didn't feel very painful at all.

He couldn't transfer back to a human, though - the Lovegood girl was still staring at him.

He quickly fled across the plains, leaving into the village. He would have to transform back there.

Inside the old village, he ducked into an old alleyway, before transforming back into a human. Once he was back into his old form, he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he wouldn't have to worry anymore. All he had to do was get back into his room before anyone found out, and this gigantic mess could be forgotten.

Ron wearily made his way back to the Burrow, as the sun was rising. Then Ron remembered that Mum would be out tending the chickens, which meant that he couldn't use the side door to get in.

Ron tip-toed into the front door, and slowly snuck inside. Fred and George were gone, so he crept up the stairs, making sure not to wake anyone up.

He silently opened his door and crept inside, before taking a well-deserved sleep.

* * *

Ron awoke some hours later, to the shrill shouts of Mum. He slowly picked himself up and washed, before heading downstairs.

Mum had made eggs and bacon, a timeless treat of hers. Ron took his plate and sat down at his seat.

Then the Dungbombs, which he had completely forgotten about, went off, and Ron groaned at the stink. Ginny wrinkled her nose as well, shifting away from him.

"Ronald!" Mum scolded, looking at him with disapproval, as always. "Mind yourself!"

"But it was Fred and George, Mum!" Ron faintly protested. "I didn't do it!"

As he talked, Ron looked at Fred and George. Strangely, they weren't laughing like they usually were. They were blanching, look at Ron like they saw a ghost.

Mum and Ginny followed his vision, taking a look at Fred and George. "Fred, George, what's gotten into you?" Ginny asked, puzzled. "You look out of it."

Then Fred whispered. "The Dungbombs! It wasn't a dream!" Suddenly, Ron had a bad feeling about this.

Mum looked concerned. "What wasn't a dream?"

Fred and George didn't bother answering, and instead got out of their chairs and ran toward the living room.

"Fred, George, where are you two going?!" Mum got up from the table and started walking after them. Ginny got up as well. Ron followed too, a little nervous. Was what happened last night going to be discovered?

Fred and George were at the fireplace. Fred had the flowerpot in hand and was looking down into it.

"It's empty, Mum. There's no more Floo Powder left," Fred said, holding the flowerpot out to Mum.

Mum rushed forward. "What do you mean, Fred?" She took the flowerpot. "Where did all of the Floo Powder go?! What did you do with it?"

George frantically shook his head. "We didn't do anything, Mum! Last night there was this weird dog thing in the living room! We thought we were dreaming, but when Ron mentioned the Dungbombs, we realized that-"

Suddenly, Ron had a devious idea. He pointed angrily at the two of them. "You put Dungbombs on my chair!"

George shook his head. "So what, Ron?"

But Mum didn't see it that way. She walked up to Fred and George and poked them in their chests. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Fred, George, we _need_ the Floo Powder! What did you two do with it?"

They frantically shook their heads. "No, mum-"

"Enough!" She roared. "I have better things to do than listen to your excuses!" She whipped out her wand. "_Accio Floo Powder!_"

There was nothing, even after a few seconds of waiting for the Floo Powder to arrive. Mum sighed.

"You've used it all, haven't you?" She looked at the soot on fireplace. "I'd never thought we'd have to keep your hands off the _Floo Powder_, but here we are." She took a look at them all. "Get your school lists. We're getting your school things from Diagon Alley today, there's no point in putting it off for the end of the summer."

* * *

Ron could hardly believe his luck. Somehow, someway, he had managed to get away with his trick unsuspected. Sure, he was a little smelly, but in the grand scheme of things, that didn't matter.

He had his new wand in hand, stroking it. Ollivander didn't take much time in figuring out which wand was the best for Ron, taking one of the wands from his shelf and handing it to Ron. When Ron waved it, a magnificent shower of sharks came out, and Ollivander was delighted.

"My, you were a quick customer. Black walnut and dragon heartstring, eight and two-third inches, a little bendy." Ollivander put the wand back in its box, handing it to Mum, who was standing off in the corner. "That'll be eight galleons, my dear."

As Mum handed the coins over, Ron opened the box again, just to look at his wand - and it was _his_! Not Charlie's, not Percy's, but _his_!

Ron closed the box again and put it in the bag he had brought with him, making sure it was secure inside.

As they were walking out of Ollivanders, Mum rounded on him. "Ronald, you aren't to use your wand until you get back to Hogwarts. Is that understood?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Mum, I get it. No magic until Hogwarts. It's not like I did magic with Charlie's wand, anyway."

Mum sniffed and looked away. "Either way, Ronald, put your wand away, so you don't misplace it. I'm going to Flourish and Blotts to buy your school supplies." She gave him a small pile of Galleons and a basket. "Go to the Apothecary and your potions ingredients. If there's any left, you can keep it"

Ron took the pile of Galleons and stuffed them into his pockets. "Thanks, Mum."

Mum started walking away. "We're meeting at the Leaky Cauldron in two hours. Don't get into any trouble!" With that, she turned the corner and left Ron's sight.

With not much else to do, Ron went to the Apothecary, promising himself that he'd use only half of the Galleons - after all, the school had stores that he could borrow from. No point in letting Snape keep any of his slimy ingredients.

Arriving at the Apothecary, Ron consulted his list and picked up the ingredients he needed. While he was putting them into the basket, he accidentally bumped into a boy only two years younger than him, who fell to the floor.

"Watch where you're going!" The boy snapped at him, picking up his basket. Ron felt his lips curl - the boy was a Slytherin if his personality was anything to go by. The boy had frigid green eyes. It was like Harry's - if Harry was like Malfoy, that is.

The boy picked himself and dusted himself off. "Are all wizards as rude and ignorant as you are?" The boy asked. "Not even bothering to look where your arm is?."

Ron was affronted. "Me? You're the one you bumped into me!"

The boy sneered at him, picking up a wealth of books from the ground. "No, you _idiot_, you're the one that bumped into me. I was over there," he pointed to the booth where the first years would pick up their ingredients, "when you elbowed me."

Ron only growled at the boy - and a wisp of fire tore into his throat as he did so.

The boy took the final ingredient from his basket. "I thought wizards were going to be more polite than what they've shown me. Harry was wrong, then."

"Harry?" Ron asked, latching onto one of the words.

The boy rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harry Potter. He's my second cousin."

Ron's eyes widened. "What's your name?!"

"Farran Evans," The boy introduced. "And," He sighed. "What's your name?"

"Ron Weasley."

Farran's eyes widened. "You're the Ron he's been talking about?"

"Yes, now, where's Harry?" Ron pressed.

"Getting his school supplies, I imagine," Farran rolled his eyes. "He was supposed to make sure I get all of my supplies. Like I need help with something as simple as shopping."

Ron ignored Farran and started flinging the supplies he needed into his basket. He could hardly believe it - Harry was in the Alley as well, on _today_ of all days! It was still a few weeks until he had to meet up with them, but somehow they met up anyway.

Once Ron hurriedly bought all of the ingredients he needed, paying no heed to the promise of halving it he had made to himself, he rushed out of the Apothecary and started looking for Harry.

"You know, Ron," Farran drawled from behind him. "Harry's not going to be going anywhere. He'll be here for the entire day. There's no real rush."

Ron spun around to face Farran, aggravated. "Do you have to put your nose into _every little thing_?!"

Farran shook his head, ignoring what Ron asked. "You were born in this strange community, correct?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, so?"

"So what is magic?!"

"What?"

"What is magic?" Farran waved his hands around. "I know it's some power that allows you to do miraculous things, but what _is _it? Is it a force, matter, energy? What is it?"

Ron scratched his head. "What are you talking about? It's _magic_. That's what it is. It does things," Ron shrugged.

Although, the amulet showed magic as glowing lines - not like Farran needed to know that, though.

Farran grabbed his hair. "That's all everyone's been telling me, but it has to be _something_! It has to _exist_ in some form or another!" Farran grabbed one of his books - _Magical Theory_ by Albert Waffling. "Do you know how vague this is? All it goes on about are rules - do this, don't do this, magic does this to this, if you try this it will kill you, etc.!"

"So?"

"It doesn't say anything about what magic _is_!" Farran was breathing heavily, looking at Ron with a razor-sharp gaze. "Nothing about what makes it up, how it comes into being, why I can use it but Father can't - nothing!"

"Your Father?"

"He's a 'Muggle' - you know, he can't use magic." Farran pointed to himself. "From some freak accident or gene or whatever, I have the power to make _miracles_ happen - and I can't tell _why_!"

"Well, sometimes wizards are born in muggle families-"

"I KNOW WHAT A MUGGLEBORN IS!" Farran was now heaving and shouting at the top of his lungs, attracting the odd look from the witches and wizards that passed them by. Farran seized his shirt. "_What part of me makes me able t-to do all of _this?! To do magic?!"

Ron couldn't answer.

Farran let him go, tired. "Never," he huffed. "Never mind." He grabbed his textbooks. "I guess _I'll_ have to be the first wizarding scientist." There was a fire in his eyes as he spoke. "If no one else will explain this to me, then I'll find it out!"

All Ron got from that was that Farran was a Ravenclaw, not a Slytherin, then.

"That's great and all, but do you know where Harry is?"

Farran looked at him with angry contempt. "I don't know, look for him. Go do whatever you were doing beforehand, it doesn't matter to me." Farran stormed off.

Ron personally thought Farran wasn't right in the head. He felt like a very, very angry version of Hermione, in all honesty - all bookish, but a lot more shouting.

As Ron walked through the streets of Diagon Alley, he pulled out his amulet and studied it closely. It was able to see magic, look at it as though it were glowing green lines.

But you couldn't see those lines without it. So was magic those glowing green lines?

Ron sighed. Maybe Hermione would be able to figure it out - she'd probably like this sort of thing.

Regardless, Harry was in Diagon Alley, and Ron wanted to show the amulet to him. He wanted to see what Anima Harry was - but he needed to find him first.

Then Ron crossed the post office, and another idea came to him.

Who better to find Harry than an owl?

Ron checked his pocket, and he still had a Galleon or two from the pile his mother had given him. He had enough for a single letter.

Ron entered and quickly took some of the spare parchment laying around on the ground to write a quick note to Harry to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron in twenty minutes. He took a small owl from the rack and tied the note to its leg, before letting it soar into Diagon Alley. He then paid one of his galleons to the wizard manning the post office, before walking to the Cauldron.

It took a while, but he got there. He then sat at one of the tables and pulled out his wand to look at it, marveling that it was _his_ wand.

It wasn't long before he heard a familiar shout.

"Ron!"

Ron's grin threatened to cut his face in two, as he looked at Harry. "Harry!" He waved Harry over, as the two friends sat down together. "How come you're here?!"

Harry groaned. "It's my second cousin, Farran Evans. A few nights ago he found out that he's a wizard." Harry rubbed his forehead in his remembering headache. "Day and night, he's been asking me all kinds of questions, such as 'Dragons exist?' and 'How does a wand work?'"

Ron nodded. "I met him outside the Apothecary. He's a rude bloke, you know?"

Harry nodded. "Tell me about it. Of course, he's a whole lot better than Evans is."

"Who?"

Harry gained a stony look in his eye. "Evans - Ferris Evans, Farran's dad. Put Malfoy and Percy into a single person and make him a Muggle, and you have the git right in front of you."

Ron winced. "That bad?" Harry nodded. "Eurgh. Sounds like you've had a rougher time than I have."

Harry continued on that train of thought. "How was Egypt, by the way - and why are you here in Britain, anyway? In your letter, you said that you'd be in Egypt until the end of the summer."

Ron looked around, making sure there were no eavesdroppers. "Do you know if there's a place where we can talk privately?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about, Ron?"

"There's something I have to share with you, and I can't let anyone else know about it."

Harry pointed to a staircase leading in the Leaky Cauldron. "Farran and I are staying inside the Cauldron, we can talk in our room." Ron nodded as they started walking up the staircase.

As they walked, Ron asked another question. "I thought you were staying with your aunt and uncle?"

"I was until Farran used magic in front of muggles. My Aunt Marge had to be Obliviated, and the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad had to explain everything to Evans. He didn't stick much longer, after that."

Ron scratched his head. "What do you mean?"

"Once Evans learned that Farran would be forced to go to Hogwarts, he said that he was washing his hands clean of Farran."

Ron was having a little trouble understanding. "What do you mean, 'washing his hands clean'? It sounds like he wanted to murder Farran."

Harry shrugged. "He said that if he wasn't going to be 'a part of the magical society', then he wasn't going to bother himself with Farran's education anymore. He left back for America, leaving him behind for Hogwarts."

"Git."

Harry shrugged. "It got me away from the Dursleys too. They kicked him out within a second of Evans leaving. After all, they hate _all_ wizards, not just me. After that, I accidentally flagged the Knight Bus and rode here, and we've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron ever since."

They finally arrived at Harry's and Farran's rooms, and the difference was striking. Ron could tell whose bed was whose, just by the number of books the beds had.

"Ron, what was it you wanted to say?" Harry asked. "Why are back from Egypt?"

Ron sighed, then pulled out the amulet from underneath his clothes. It glinted in the light as Harry looked at it.

"What is it?" Harry asked as Ron passed it over to him, feeling a sense of reluctance as he did so. Harry fidgeted with it as Ron explained.

"In one of the Egyptian pyramids, I fell into a booby trap. After some messing around, I found this amulet and a scroll. It helped me escape."

Harry dangled the amulet in front of his face. "So what does it do, then? It's magic, right?"

Ron nodded. "See that little glass piece in the middle of the amulet. Take a look through it."

Harry nodded, before putting the amulet up to his eye, before quickly jerking it back. "You… you looked like a dog!"

"A Growlithe, actually," Ron corrected.

Harry looked at him, agape. "A what?!"

Ron set himself to explain. "So, everybody in the world has something called an 'Anima'. It's a sort of magical creature that 'represents the soul', or something like that." Ron transformed into his Growlithe form right in front of Harry, who jerked back and whipped his wand out in front of him.

Ron transformed back. "Whenever I want, I can turn into my Anima. I can breathe fire and have a really strong nose, too."

Harry was still a little stunned from the transformations, so Ron let him understand what just happened.

Finally, Harry spoke. "Everyone has one of those monsters locked up in them?"

"Yeah - Percy's something called a 'Herdier' and Charlie's a 'Zygarde'. I haven't looked at anyone else with the amulet, so I don't know their forms yet."

Harry passed Ron the amulet. "What Anima am I?"

Ron obliged and took a look at Harry with the amulet. In Harry's place was a weird blue lion-like Anima. With large green eyes and a star-shaped tail, Harry's Anima form stood there, sparking wildly.

"Ron? What am I?"

"You're this weird blue lion thing, Harry. You have these bits of lighting sparking off you, too."

Harry looked rather curious. "Can I see?" Ron passed the amulet to Harry, and Harry tried to look at himself with it.

"I can't see anything, Ron. In this thing I'm invisible." Harry wasn't - but Ron supposed he hadn't tried looking at himself with the amulet.

"Try transforming," Ron advised.

Harry frowned. "How do I do that?"

"You just sort of imagine yourself as your Anima form, and there's a 'poof', and you turn into your Anima form." As he said, it, Ron felt his ears going red out of embarrassment. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel the explanation was rather lacking.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "But I've never seen my Anima form."

"Er, yeah, you're right," Ron mentioned. "Now that I think about it, my first transformation was a little different." He had grabbed the amulet and said some incantation, and then he transformed.

Ron tried his hardest to remember what he had said back then, but it kept evading him. Then, in a quick flash, he remembered at least a part of it.

"I grabbed the amulet and said something… Anima, and then I transformed." He told Harry. "It was 'excite Anima', or something like that."

Excite, excited, exciter…

It came to him.

"Excitare Anima!" Then there was a small 'pop', and he transformed back into a Growlithe. "That was the incantation."

Hary sounded it out. "Excitare Anima?"

There was a strange crackle and popping before arcs of lightning started running all over Harry's skin, causing him to scream in pain.

"Harry!"

Harry convulsed on the ground, slowly shrinking. Within thirty seconds or so, he had turned into the lion cub and slowly opened his emerald eyes.

Harry then mewled, and Ron started laughing. As he did so, Harry started sparking in anger, before scratching Ron - and that left a _nasty_ shock.

"Argh! S-Stop it, Harry!" Harry mewled again, annoyed. Ron could tell that Harry wanted to change back into a human. "Harry, imagine yourself as a human again, and you'll transfer back."

Harry closed his eyes, and with a much quicker pop of air, he transformed back into his normal self.

"Eurgh… not the most painful thing I've ever gone through, but it's up there." Harry mentioned, frowning. He then snapped his fingers and a spark of lightning arced through his fingers. "Why can I use electricity?"

"Electricity?" Ron frowned. "That's the stuff Muggles use to power their stuff, right?"

Harry nodded, staring off in the distance. "Ron, what happened?" He asked, flexing his fingers. "I just changed into a lion cub." With a pop, he changed back into his Anima form, before turning back. "How can I do this?"

Ron shrugged. "Beats me. I just followed what the scroll said."

"The what?"

Ron continued with his story. "The amulet wasn't the only thing in the pyramid. There was also a weird scroll in it as well, which answered my questions."

Harry's eyes turned sharp. "Like the Diary?!" He asked suddenly.

"A bit, yeah," Ron admitted. "It doesn't think or want anything, though - it just answers my questions when I want it to."

Harry looked unconvinced. "What do you mean?"

"I can ask the scroll questions. It'll answer it, but it won't say anything else. It doesn't have a personality or anything like that."

Harry still looked worried.

"Anyway, there's one more thing the amulet does. Look at the walls with it." Harry took the amulet in his hand, much more warily this time, and looked at the walls with it.

"What's with all of the green lines?" He asked, peering closely.

"That's magic. The amulet shows magic through those glowing lines." Harry peered around, looking at everything in the room with the amulet. "Could you pass it back, Harry?"

Harry nodded, before tossing the amulet back over to him. As Ron slung it around his neck, he felt incredibly relieved. "Thanks."

"So, Ron, that doesn't answer why you're back," Harry said, curious. "You said that it would take you until the last week of summer to return - why are you back?"

"When I got locked in the pyramid for the entire day and went missing, I made Mum think Egypt is too dangerous for us to stay in. The Nundu attack didn't help either."

"What's a Nundu?"

So Ron went over the tedious process of explaining the events a few days ago, recounting his walk with Charlie, Ron smelling the Nundu, the Aaksabil, the fountain, Al-Fazeta, and what happened afterward.

Harry looked rather skeptical though - and it _was _a rather tall tale. "So you smelled the 'Nundu', found a hidden magical fountain, and-"

In the middle of their conversation, the door slammed wide open, and Farran walked in, before looking at Ron. Farran sighed.

"He's in here," he said with disdain.

Then Ginny walked in after him.

"Ron!" She shouted, before spotting Harry in the corner and immediately falling silent with a blush. Ron groaned as Harry waved to her. "H-Harry?!"

* * *

Many hours later, Ron and Harry were lying in Ron's room. Dad had got permission from the Ministry to allow Harry to come over and stay with the Weasleys, though Farran had to come as well. Thankfully, Percy was in charge of him - though, by the looks of it, they got on each other's nerves.

All Ron cared about was that Harry was staying over again. Judging by the smile stretching across Harry's face, he thought the same thing.

Ron, once back at the Burrow and with Harry watching, pulled up the scroll and asked it what Harry's Anima form was.

**Shinx**

**Category: Flash Anima**

**Abilities: Rivalry, Intimidate, Guts**

**Type: Electric**

**Description: Shinx is a friendly, yet boisterous pokemon. As it runs, the motion in its muscular limbs generates an electrical current by using the piezoelectric properties of its DNA and sugar deposits. When it senses danger or feels threatened, its fur starts flashing wildly.**

**Evolves into: Luxio, Luxray**

While Ron read his Anima's description to Harry, he raised an eyebrow.

"Harry?" Ron asked after he finished reading it. "What on earth is…" Ron squinted. "Pie-Pies… that thing?"

Harry looked just as confused as he did. "I barely understood what you said." Harry transformed into his Shinx form, and run around for a bit, before transforming back. "All I got was that when I run around when I'm a 'Shinx', I make a lot of electricity." Harry snapped a bit, and large arcs of lightning formed on his fingertips.

Ron then put the scroll away as Mum called them down for dinner. "Does it matter?"

Harry didn't bother answering him. It didn't matter, anyway - both of them were in for a fun summer.

* * *

As the two were sleeping that night, a small rat crawled out Ron's pocket. It surveyed the room, before climbing off Ron's bed.

A quick transformation later, and a balding man was standing in the room, looking at Ron's chest. Slowly, as to not wake Ron up, he pulled the amulet off his chest.

Ron tossed and turned in his sleep, but wasn't aroused from his slumber.

The balding man breathed a sigh of relief, before taking the amulet in his hands.

"Excitare Anima."

With a small flash of light, the man shrunk down to a new form, before inspecting it. Somewhat satisfied, the man returned to his human form, before slinging the amulet around Ron's neck again and transforming back into a rat.

Normally, the man wouldn't have taken such a risk - after all, one wrong move and he could have blown his cover.

But after witnessing the raw power of these forms, compared to simple animals, he saw it as necessary for his survival.

While Ron didn't read the news, _he_ certainly did - and the news recently was frightening.

Sirius Black had escaped.

* * *

**Geez, I wonder who that could be.**

**Thanks for the follows and favorites. If you liked the chapter, feel free to leave a review on it. **

**Next chapter, we're getting into Hogwarts.**

**See you soon!**


	4. On the Train

The weeks rolled into the month, and soon enough August came to a close, none too soon. Even with all of the fun they had during the summer - playing faux Quidditch on their brooms, lazing about in the garden, tearing their minds over the summer homework - Hogwarts was a second home to them.

Harry, for his part, was eager to get back to the halls of Hogwarts. They were like a family to him, but Ron could tell Harry wanted to go to Hogwarts more than ever. The small calendar Harry marked off each night that counted down to September 1st was a testament to that.

Ron, for his part, wanted to use magic again. It was _torture_, seeing Mum being able to wave her wand and use magic, only to be denied from doing the same. The underage wizard ban was so _unfair_!

Ron shook his head, as he looked at his wand again, smiling as they piled into the Ministry cars - Ron didn't know how Dad got a hold of them. Regardless, he was going to have _fun_ casting spells that _worked_!

The cars, for their part, were loud and obnoxious, and Ron could do with them. He and Harry carried a small conversation about the likeliness of the Chudley Cannons doing well this season.

"Ron," Harry argued, "the Cannons haven't won in over a century! What makes you think they'll win this year?"

"They'll win _this_ year BECAUSE," Ron shouted over the din. "They broke the curse over their team - they got a ritual and all to break any big curses on the team."

"And they didn't do this before?"

"They used different rituals - but this time it'll _work_!"

The argument went on and on, and by the time they had reached Kings Cross the rest of the car was sick of it - Farran, in particular, threatened to hang them by their entrails if they shut up, and he had the support of the twins too.

Ron was glad the little brat had spent the entire summer cooped up in his and Percy's room. That meant that he and Harry pretty much never had to interact with him - that burden was left solely on Percy. Ron had no regrets about that.

According to Percy, all he did was read, read, read, _read_. He never did anything fun or exciting or interesting, just stuck his head in the books and took notes (for all they hated each other, Percy was surprisingly approving of Farran's habits).

Soon enough, they all clambered off the car and walked their trolleys to Platform 9 and Three Quarters. With not a moment to spare or care, they all walked through the barrier and arrived on the platform.

Farran wasted no time in boarding the train, not even bothering to say farewells. Everyone else, though, took their times with their goodbyes. Mum was remarkably less weepy this year since no one was going to Hogwarts for their first time.

Ron was ready to board onto the train when he saw Dad lead Harry away for a small chat. He varied the pros and cons of eavesdropping - then he remembered he was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors don't usually do that sort of thing.

He loaded his trunk into a compartment door and put Scabbers next to it. Then with a small 'pop' of air, he turned into a Growlithe. During the summer, he had experimented with his Anima alongside Harry. What he found was that while a Growlithe's nose was the superb sense, the ears weren't half-bad either - certainly stronger than a normal wizard's, though.

The din of the platform was nearly deafening, but Ron screwed up his concentration and focused his ears where he knew Dad and Harry were talking.

Even with his better ears, he could barely hear what Dad and Harry were saying. Still, he could make out snippets of conversation.

"... you won't go…" Ron heard his Dad say. "... promise… whatever happens…"

"... go looking… kill me?" He heard Harry rebuff.

Kill Harry?

"Swear to me…" He heard, before the train's whistle shrieked, nearly tearing Ron's ears in half. The whistle served another purpose, too - Harry and Dad's talk was cut short, and Harry rushed into the train.

Ron popped back into a human form, before exiting the carriage. Within a second of searching (a stronger nose came in handy sometimes), he had found Harry looking through carriages.

"Harry!"

Harry turned to look at him, relieved. "Oh, there you are!" He looked around furtively, before whispering to him. "Do you know where Hermione is - I have to tell you two something."

"Is it about what you were talking about with Dad on the station?" Harry nodded. Ron bit his lip - the fact that someone or something wanted to, or was going to kill Harry wasn't something Ron wanted to put off for very long.

Still, Hermione had as much right to know as they did. Ron nodded, before running back to his compartment and pulling his trunks and Scabbers from their resting spots.

Soon he and Harry were scouring the train to look for Hermione. Ron half-wished he had smelled Hermione earlier - that way, he could use her scent to help them find her. But he didn't, and they were left scrambling around to find her.

"Harry, Ron!" Then they heard that familiar voice ring out. "There you are - I've been looking all over for you!"

Harry turned around with a bright grin on his face. "Hermione!"

Hermione, though, was standing in the middle of the train with her hands on her hips, looking rather irate. "There you are - I've been looking all over for you!"

Ron rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, it took a while. How's your summer been?"

"It's been wonderful, but don't distract me! You set a date for all of us to visit Diagon Alley, then you decide that you can't wait and go early - both of you!" Hermione was more scathing in person than she had been in her reply letter.

After Harry and Farran had come to live with them, Ron and Harry had sent a Hermione telling her that they had already gone to Diagon Alley. Ron had also made sure to tell her about his wand composition (Black Walnut and Dragon Heartstring, though he didn't care what it meant).

What he and Harry _didn't_ tell her, though, was about the Anima and the amulet. They had a small argument over this, on whether they should tell her in the letter or not. Harry wanted to tell Hermione about it immediately, but Ron talked him down. He didn't feel comfortable sending the secret in a letter that anyone could read - what if Hermione mentioned it in the reply and someone interrupted the letter?

Harry didn't seem to understand Ron's need for secrecy, but eventually complied, on the condition that they tell Hermione when they met her on the Hogwarts Express.

Ron flushed. "Sorry, but the plans changed. We came home from Egypt early and Harry's aunt and uncle kicked him out early."

Hermione brightened. "Oh, yes, how was Egypt? I read about it, and the pyramids and tombs are _fascinating_!"

"Never mind that, Hermione," Ron waved her off and turned to look at Harry, curious about the conversation on the platform. "What were you and Dad talking about on the platform, and who wants to kill you?!"

Hermione's rebuke died on her lips as she turned, wide-eyed, to look at Harry. "Kill him?"

Harry, meanwhile, looked Ron with suspicion. "How did you know Black wants to kill me?"

"I overheard you and Dad talk on the platform-"

"Sirius Black wants to kill you?" Hermione interrupted worriedly.

Harry nodded gravely, before looking around. "We should find a compartment we can talk privately in - people can hear us." Sure enough, people in neighboring compartments were looking confused and whispering at the three of them, who were talking in the middle of the train's walkway.

A few minutes later and the three of them found a relatively free compartment, which only had some sleeping bloke in it - Professor R. J. Lupin. He needed some good meals, in Ron's opinion.

As they sat down and shifted Professor Lupin so that he wouldn't accidentally fall over to the train's bumping (Hermione's idea), Harry continued his explanation.

"Black's the biggest supporter of Voldemort, and he'd been saying stuff like 'He's at Hogwarts' in his sleep." It didn't take a genius to realize Harry was Black's biggest target.

Rob never really thought about Black. Sure, he was dangerous and loose, but other than a few days where Dad was late, it never really mattered to him. He was rather frightening, though, from the looks of the mugshots on the Daily Prophet.

And if managed to break out of _Azkaban_?

Ron shivered.

"Harry, you _shouldn't_ go looking for him," Hermione immediately advised (ordered). "He's too dangerous for you to handle!"

As Harry asked Hermione why on _Earth_ she thought he would look for Black, Ron had his input on the situation.

"Black might find come for Harry himself, Hermione. It's not like Black cares about what Harry wants," The two of them ignored him.

Eventually, the three of them decided that the best Harry could do was to wait for the Ministry to catch Black - it, ultimately, wasn't their business.

"So, Ron, how was Egypt?" Hermione went back to the initial conversation at hand. "And why did you come back so early? Same with you, Harry."

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

Harry shrugged. "Your story is longer, Ron. I'll go first."

With that, Harry launched into an explanation of what had happened during the summer, with him and Farran. Ron tuned most of it out, as he was already familiar with the story.

Once Harry finished with him and Ron meeting up in Diagon Alley, Hermione looked curious yet cautious. "So your second cousin is a wizard?"

"Yeah, and he's a right git too," Ron mentioned. "He either has his nose stuck in a book or is ignoring us out of spite!" Mostly with the nose stuck in the book bit, in all reality. Farran didn't spend time with the Weasleys willingly.

"At least he's an intellectual," Hermione offered. "He _seems_ logical, and that's something we need more of in Hogwarts."

"Oh, come off it Hermione!" Harry snapped. "Whatever 'logic' Farran has is overshadowed completely by his massive ego."

"You haven't gotten to know him, have you?" Hermione asked. "How can you be so sure if you haven't given him a chance?"

Harry just grumbled at that.

Hermione turned to Ron. "So, what about you? How was Egypt?"

Ron heaved a large sigh. This was going to take a while.

* * *

"Wait, so let me make sure I'm understanding this clearly," Hermione held up a hand, the other massaging her temple. "You fell into a booby trap in one of the pyramids."

"Right," Ron chirped.

"After some exploration, you found an amulet and a scroll, which you immediately _put_ _on_."

"Not immediately, I was a little more cautious than that." Ron defended.

"Not the point!"

"Anyway?"

"After you put it on and escaped the trap, you threw away the amulet and scroll because they _burned _you."

"Obviously."

"You returned to your campsite, and summoned the amulet and scroll back to you?"

"Using the amulet's magic, yeah," Ron answered. "It does what I want it to."

"Then, after putting the amulet _back on_, instead of, oh I don't know, _throwing it away_, you turned into a magical dog?!"

Ron popped into a Growlithe, which made Hermione shriek in surprise. Once Ron changed back, Hermione stopped to catch her breath.

"Oh, my…" She shook her head at a loss for words. "A-anyway… you then discovered a _Nundu_ hiding in the desert, and after finding the Fountain of Youth and meeting some mysterious old man, you warned the Ministry?"

Ron nodded. "Then, when we returned, I used up all of out Floo Powder so we could go to Diagon Alley early and I could get my wand, and that's it."

Ron felt it was rather self-explanatory, but Hermione sat down, looking like she was trying to come to terms with first discovering magic or something that big. "Right, right…" She looked at him with a crazed look on her face. "Are you _insane_? How could you think _any_ of that was a good idea?!"

"The Floo Powder idea worked, didn't it?" Ron defended. "I mean, sure, we had to buy some more Floo Powder, but the Nundu winnings canceled that out didn't it?"

Hermione, and even Harry, just gaped at him at that point.

Ron's ears turned red. To busy himself, he pulled off the amulet and gave it to Hermione, who looked very, very nervous holding it.

"Is it… is it safe?" She whispered uncertainly, holding the amulet at arm's length.

"Other than that first transformation, it's harmless," Ron reassured.

"I… okay." Slowly, Hermione held up the amulet to her eyes, and the worry and nervousness started to melt away from her face. "Oh, I can see magic everywhere!" She started turning around in her seat, trying to take a look at everything in the car.

"Er... Hermione?" Ron was starting to feel rather uncomfortable. "Could you hand it back?"

"What? Oh, sure?" She handed it back to Ron, who clasped it snugly in his hands. "Can I take a look at the scroll?"

Ron nodded. "Sure, just wait a minute while I get it for you." He pulled out the trunk and dug around for a bit, before finding the scroll tucked between a textbook and a small trinket from home.

He pulled it out and handed it to Hermione, who immediately began inspecting it curiously, lifting it, turning it, etc.

Finally, she handed it back to him with a look of confusion on her face. "I can't see any runes on it. It must be enchanted… but the Egyptian Wizards _loved_ runes. Why would something like this not have any?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know, Hermione. All it does is tell me things - does it matter how it works, anyway?"

She frowned. "Right, right, you don't care about that sort of thing…" She sighed, before taking a look at the amulet in Ron's hands. "Say, Ron, what Anima do _I_ have?"

"I don't know, I haven't looked yet." Still, that begot his curiosity slightly, so he put the amulet to his eye and took a look at Hermione.

In Hermione's place was a strange bipedal creature. It looked fairly human-like, if it wasn't for the strange red horns on its head, or the stick-like legs, or the pasty white skin that looked like a dress, or the green hair, or the _massive_ red eyes that peered into his soul, or…

It wasn't really like a human at all.

Once he told Hermione what her Anima looked like, her curiosity was piqued.

"It looks green and white," she muttered under her breath, thinking. "It has long legs and it looks like a dancer. That doesn't sound like any other magical creature I've ever heard of."

"That's because it _isn't_ a magical creature," Harry explained. "It's not like a dragon or a basilisk or anything like that."

Hermione was contemplative. "You said you found out most of what you know from the scroll, right?"

Ron patted the scroll. "Yeah, from this."

"Can you tell me what my Anima is called, then?" She asked. "I'm going to do a bit of research when we arrive, see what the library has to say."

Ron didn't think the library _would_ have anything, but Hermione would probably go and do the research anyway.

He opened the scroll and put the amulet's eyepiece to his eye.

_Scroll, what is Hermione's Anima_?

Like always, words started scrawling themselves onto the scroll.

**Kirlia**

**Category: Emotion Anima**

**Abilities: Synchronize, Trace, Telepathy**

**Type: Psychic, Fairy**

**Description: Kirlia is an empathic Anima. It senses the emotions of those around it, and its health changes accordingly. Happiness causes it to sing out in joy and dance beautifully, an alluring aura drawing everyone near it. With its special power, it may also peer into the future and generate illusions. It enjoys sunny mornings.**

**Evolves from: Ralts**

**Evolves into: Gardevoir or Gallade**

Ron's mouth was left hanging open.

"Ron?" Hermione anxiously peered at him. "What is it?!"

"How many bloody talents does a Kirlia have?!" Ron was sputtering. "It's - it's _unfair_, that's what it is!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Talents?"

Ron gestured to himself. "Growlithes have an incredible nose and Shinxes can make lightning with their body. You can read minds, make people see things that aren't there, and see the future!"

Hermione's eyes were mind-boggling wide. "What are you _saying_?" She demanded. "Show me what it says on the scroll." She pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. "Write it here."

Ron didn't like writing, but here was an instance he was willing to do it. He painstakingly copied down everything the scroll told him, before sliding it back over to Hermione.

Hermione snatched the sheet with Kirlia's entry on it before her eyes blurred over the paper.

After ten seconds, she put the paper back down.

"How do you transform into your Anima?" She pressed Ron. "I saw you turn into a Growlithe, and Harry can turn into a 'Shinx', right?" At their nods, she continued. "Tell me how to turn into a Kirlia, then."

Ron put the amulet down, to make sure he wouldn't transform. "You have to hold the amulet and say the incantation 'Excitare Anima'. Once you do, you'll transform."

Hermione gripped the amulet firmly. "I see - so it's 'Excitare-" She suddenly stopped herself. "Right, I shouldn't say it when it's in my hand." She put the amulet down. "Excitare Anima, correct?"

Ron nodded. "That's it."

But Hermione didn't immediately grab the amulet again. Instead, she took a look at the sheet with Kirlia's information on it. "What is Evolution?"

Ron scratched his head. "What?"

"What is Evolution?" Hermione asked. "This sheet says that I can evolve into a Gardevoir or a Gallade, and that I can evolve from a Ralts. What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know - does it matter?"

"Ask the scroll - I want to know more about my Anima before I turn into it." She demanded.

Ron groaned. "Really?"

Hermione didn't reply - she only pointed to the scroll.

Ron sighed, before putting the amulet to his eye and looking at the scroll.

_Scroll, what is evolution_.

More words appeared on the scroll's surface.

**Evolution**

**Evolution is a process in which a being can turn from one Anima to another. Placed into an evolutionary line, once certain conditions have been met, an Anima can transform completely into another form. This change is completely irreversible, barring major changes to a person's soul**_**.**_

Ron read it off, and Hermione put her hand to her head to think.

"So Gardevoir, Gallade, and Ralts are other Anima, then?" She frowned. "If I can turn into a Ralts, that means I must have evolved already."

Ron through his hands up. "Hermione, I told you what evolution is! Now can you transform already?" Ron shoved the amulet toward her.

Hermione grasped it. "You know, you're_ really_ rude, Ronald." She closed her eyes. "Excitare Anima," she recited.

There was a blinding flash of light, and Ron and Harry covered their eyes. Then, they turned to see Hermione's shrinking form cocooned in a ball of light.

Then pink circles of all things started shooting out of Hermione's body. One hit Ron before he collapsed with a searing headache.

Eventually, the cocoon of light fell away to reveal Hermione, now as a Kirlia, twirling gracefully. Ron, though, couldn't see it as he was sprawled on the floor with a headache.

"Argh! Hermione, watch where you aim those things!" Hermione made a strange cry in her new form before her hand leaped to where her mouth used to be. Her eyes widened in shock.

With hops as airy as a leaf on the wind, Hermione leaped onto the train seat to look at the glassy train window, using the mirror to inspect her body.

Harry, meanwhile, helped Ron to his feet. "Eurgh," Ron moaned. "Anyway, Hermione, if you want to turn back, just imagine yourself turning back into a human. It works for me and Harry, so you should get it too."

Hermione turned to him, nodding. Then, in a much quicker flash of light, her normal form appeared.

"Oh, dear!" Hermione laughed. "That was such a wonderful experience." She elegantly fell back onto the train seat.

"Glad you liked it," Ron said. "Can you pass the amulet back?"

Hermione frowned. "But I rather liked being a Kirlia," she protested.

Harry rolled his eyes, before popping into a Shinx and back again. "You can transform whenever you want to, Hermione. After the first transformation, you can do it whenever you want."

Hermione brightened up. "Oh! Then, of course!" She tossed the amulet back to Ron, who slung it back around his neck.

Then, before Ron could say anything, Hermione transformed back into a Kirlia. She did a few twirls and pirouettes, before leaping back and forth across the train seats. Then she popped back.

"Oh, it feels _amazing_!" Hermione hugged herself. "I feel so _elegant_, so _free_!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Glad you liked it so much, Hermione," he dryly commented.

"You don't _understand_, Harry!" Hermoine argued. "Right now I feel like I'm encased in a suit of lead - it was like I was made of _air_!" Hermione popped back into her Kirlia form and started dancing again.

Ron looked at Harry. "She _really_ likes it, huh," Harry nodded. Both of them certainly _liked_ their Anima forms, but Hermione could barely contain her joy.

Eventually, after a few minutes of dancing, Hermione popped back. "Ah… that felt so _good_."

"Are you done yet, Hermione?" Ron asked, a little annoyed. "Or will you transform back into a Kirlia in another minute."

Hermione shook her head. "I think I've gotten it out of my system," she said. "It felt so wonderful, too!" Then her look of joy turned into a look of annoyance. "Eurgh - _Malfoy_."

"Malfoy?"

What Hermione meant soon became apparent, as the compartment door slid open. The blond prat swaggered into the compartment

"Well, look who it is," said Malfoy drawled, smirking at them like usual. "Potty and the Weasel."

Behind Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle huffed and heaved stupidly, like the buffoons they were.

"Apparently, your family won the lottery this summer - even were there for the Nundu attack." Malfoy sneered. "Did you piss yourself, Weasley? Did the big, _bad_, Nundu frighten you?"

Ron grit his teeth as he stood up. "Shove off, Malfoy!"

"Make me, Weasel," Malfoy sneered. As if to make sure Ron got the message, Goyle slammed his arm into the sliding door of the compartment, making it rattle in its frame.

The sound, though, awakened Lupin. With a snort, the professor yawned, before sitting up.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Who are you?!"

"Excuse me?" Lupin hoarsely asked, looking blearily at Malfoy.

"I said, who are _you_?" Malfoy demanded.

Lupin frowned. "My name is Lupin - however, you should address me as Professor Lupin"

Malfoy looked at Crabbe and Goyle. It was obvious they didn't want to stick around and fight, not with Lupin in the compartment as well. "Let's go," Malfoy muttered.

With that, the three of them left. Professor Lupin frowned.

"How rude," he commented. He then grabbed his trunk, which was lying next to him, before opening the door to the compartment. "Goodbye - I hope to see you all soon in classes."

With that, he closed the door behind him.

"What a strange bloke," Ron said, scratching his head. He turned to Hermione. "So, how was your summer?"

* * *

Several hours later, the sky had turned dark and cloudy. They had been busy with their conversation for several hours, talking about their respective summers.

Ron had gone into depth about what he had seen in Egypt, such as the Aaksabil and the various tombs and pyramids he had visited before the one with the amulet. As he spoke, Hermione pulled out one of her books from her trunk and showed them what she found out about Egyptian wizards from her research.

Hermione, meanwhile, talked about the various things she had seen about France, such as veela and the various relatives she had abroad. At that point, Ron had only one ear to the conversation.

Eventually, as all things do, the conversation rolled around to sweets - which then reminded Ron of something.

"Harry, Hermione, this year we can go to Hogsmeade!"

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh! I've read it's the only entirely non-Muggle settlement in Britain!"

Ron waved her off. "Yeah, yeah - Harry, have I told you about Honeydukes! It's the best sweetshop you can imagine. Ice Mice, Pepper Imps, Chocoballs, _everything_!" Ron's mouth started drooling involuntarily. "When I get there, I'm going to transform - I'm going to smell everything so that I'll _never _forget it!"

Harry had a wry smile on his face.

Hermione continued undaunted. "Of course, it's very interesting too. The Three Broomsticks was the headquarters for the 1612 goblin rebellion, and the Shrieking Shack has perhaps the most violent spirits in all of-"

"Just think about it, Harry!" Ron's mouth watered. "Sugar quills that you can suck so you look like your just thinking!"

Hermoine turned to Harry. "Can't you wait?!"

Harry's mouth soured. "I suppose you'll have to tell me how it was, then."

"What do you mean?"

Then Ron realized - if his aunt and uncle kicked him out, then-

"You have the form signed, right?!" Harry just gave him a _look_.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione sighed.

Ron, though, was ardent. "We're going to get you into Hogsmeade," he declared. "We can find a way - we can use one of the secret passages, or the amulet, or our Anima forms-"

"Ron, remember, _Black_?" Hermione was quick to remind him.

"I can burn him," Ron insisted. "I can get the jump on him as a Growlithe, and before he knows it, _bam_! He's on fire!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's a _wizard_, Ron. He can use a Flame-Freezing Charm. Didn't you do your homework?"

Ron looked at Harry. "Harry can zap him, then. Black can't protect against that, can he!" he crowed.

Hermione sighed, aggravated.

"Thanks, guys," Harry morosely said.

The air was very depressing as a result of the news. It sat in the air, pressing onto their shoulders. Hermione was the most effected - her mouth was shaking slightly as her eyes darted back and forth.

Hold on…

"Hermione?" Ron was at her side in an instant. "Hermione, what's wrong?!"

"Sadness!" She cried, falling onto her knees. "Despair, nightmares! Misery!"

By the second her vibrations grew more and more uncontrollable. Ron could barely see how fast she was moving.

Then Ron noticed that his breath was foggy and unclear. He took a good look around.

At some point in the past few minutes, the train had come to a screeching halt, outside of Ron's perception. With a crackle and a pop, the lamps went out as Hermione fell unconscious.

Ron and Harry stood up, wands out - though Ron was more inclined to turn into an Anima himself. He felt more than ready to fight in that form.

Of course, neither of them could see. Harry lit a _Lumos _on his wand, and they were only then barely able to look around.

Strangely, the _Lumos _was weaker than it usually was - normally it was a beacon, but it could barely light up the compartment now. Of course, with the pressing darkness, it was only natural. But it didn't feel like _light_, anymore.

That, and arcs of lightning constantly traveled off the tip of Harry's wand.

Seeing no threats, the two of them decided to tend to Hermione, manipulating her into a natural and safer resting position. Her unconscious was fitful, though, and she constantly moaned with pain in it.

"Ron," Harry urgently asked. "What's going on?"

"No idea," Ron replied. "This is bizarre."

Then the compartment door slid open, and Harry whirled the light to the newcomers.

Neville Longbottom stared him down, flanked by Ginny and Farran.

Then Neville, for a lack of a better word, meeped. Ginny shrieked, then fell silent. She still hadn't gotten over her Harry issues.

Harry sighed, then motioned the three of them in. "Come on, hurry." As the three of them came in, Harry closed the door behind them, locking it with _Colloportus_.

"What's happening?" Neville asked in a timid voice. Farran rolled his eyes.

"Something's stopped the train, obviously!" He snapped. "This hasn't before, has it?"

Ron shook his head. "Never." He took a look around at the put-out lamps. "I think there's been an attack."

Farran rolled his eyes and replied with a voice dripping in sarcasm. "Thank you for your _astute_ observation, Ron!"

Ron grit his teeth. Now wasn't the time to deal with the prat.

Neville, meanwhile, was panicking, words spilling themselves over his mouth. "We're going to die, we'll go insane, we'll lose our memories!" He was nearly ready to tear his hair out

"Neville, shut up!" Harry told him irately. "Listen!"

The compartment went quiet. There was a whooshing sound outside the door as if something was gliding outside.

Then the magically locked door opened, and a _thing_ swept inside. Ron felt a chill go down his back.

Harry's face had gone white, and he was shaking madly. Then the _thing_ breathed, and a chill swept through the room, stealing all of their breaths away/

In naught but a second, Harry's eyes rolled into the back of his head, and he fell to the ground, the _Lumos _fading soon afterward.

The creature, now hidden, floated nearer. Next to him, Ron felt Ginny shake madder than Harry did - though she managed to keep herself conscious, if not useless.

"_Lumos_!" Farran roared, and the tip of his wand sprung to life.

Then Neville screamed.

"AAAARRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!"

Nevile scrambled backward as far as he could go - which was only a foot, mind you. The monster floated closer to him, moaning and shrieking.

Farran muttered under his breath. "Spells, spells…" Farran stood stock still, and Ron could see his mind whirring to find a way to stop the monster.

But some instinctual part of Ron told him that nothing Farran knew could help him.

Harry and Hermione had fainted. Ginny was near motionless, and Neville was seconds away from whatever this _monster_ would do to him. Farran was useless…

… and he couldn't do anything.

"Oh, for goodness sake!" Farran's blanched face cried in anguish before he pointed his wand straight at the thing. "I'm - I'm -YOU CAN'T SCARE ME! _Diffindo! Incendio! INCENDIO!_"

Farran's barrage of weak spells soared straight through the air. Cuts and small flames we appearing like fleas on its cloak, though they were immediately being snuffed out and mended.

In the end, all Farran had managed to do was attract the thing's attention. The thing turned around, slowly and steadily, from Neville's terrorized face to Farran's whitening one.

"Oh, _no_," Farran cursed under his breath. He turned quickly to the door. "_Alohomora!_"

The door stayed firmly shut - the thing had blocked it magically.

All Farran could do was point his wand at the thing threateningly and mutter a few weak spells, which fizzled against the Dementor even weaker than before.

Ron pulled out his wand at last. He had noticed something - it had put out the train's gas-lamps and immediately snuffed out any flames that came its way.

It was weak to flames - or at the very least, it didn't like them.

"_I-incendio!,_" he muttered.

A large bolt of fire burst out of his wand, much, _much_ larger than the previous times he had used _Incendio_. It shot through the air and latched itself onto the thing's cloak.

It spun around instantly and started floating to him, scaly hands outstretched.

Ron's flames were much, _much_ stronger than Farran's. They managed to stick to its cloak for five seconds before they were put out, though not before leaving soot marks in their place.

Why was his _Incendio_ so effective?

If it was going to work, though, he wasn't going to complain.

"_Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!_" He cast the spell over and over again, each spell adding to the flames on the thing's cloak.

The more flames were added, the brighter and brighter it became, and the weaker the effect around it grew.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

Then the flames were snuffed out, and the thing started moving again.

Ron cursed, before shooting more _Incendios_ at it. Soon enough, it had slowed down again.

But no matter how many bolts of fire he shot at it, the monster would extinguish it within a matter of seconds. It inched closer and closer to Ron.

Then Ron felt a strange weariness in his bones. He cast another _Incendio_, but it only fizzled against its thick cloak.

Was- was he running out of magic?!

The thing glided closer and closer to Ron. Farran was back to throwing out Incendios at it - and even Neville was trying to help out. But the thing ignored them, stretching its arms out toward Ron.

A strange rasping breath from the thing took his, and Ron grasped his neck, his wand clattering to the floor. The thing latched onto him, grabbing his shoulders.

This was how he was going to die, wasn't it?

A strange apathy pulsed through his body, as the thing took deeper and deeper breaths, drawing more joy out of his soul.

Ron's hands fell to his side. He had given up…

… hadn't he?

Ron felt it around his chest, pulsing in a warm and comforting way. The amulet's heat burned into him, preventing him from _truly_ giving up.

Then Ron knew what he had to do.

With a large burst of flame, he ignited, before morphing. Falling out of the thing's grasp, he lunged forward and sank his fangs on its cloak, his teeth wreathed in bright flames.

The flames spread wildly, soon encapsulating the entire monster. It let him go with a shriek, and Ron morphed back into a human, before scrambling backward.

The flames from his Growlithe form - it seemed that no matter how hard the monster tried, it couldn't snuff it like it had the others. It continued burning brightly, smoking wildly.

Ron then had an idea - a crazy, crazy idea.

Putting the amulet to his eye, Ron saw veins in the thing's body - the dark and purple veins of magic. It pulsed powerfully throughout its body, pushing against his flames.

The place where it was strongest was the point where its heart would be. A pitch-black point was there, and all of the other purple lines led from there.

That was where he would strike.

Ron morphed again, before slamming the burning monster into the ground. He then bit down on the thing's heart with all of his might, not even letting go when the monster tried to strangle him and force him to let go.

Then, only a second later, Ron felt something in the monster snap, and it _screamed_. The scream echoed around the compartment like a haunting death knell.

Then, in a burst of black mist, the monster exploded, leaving only the burning ashes of a cloak behind.

Ron turned back into a human and turned to see Farran and Neville's jaw-dropped stares.

"I can explain?"

* * *

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron politely clapped as Farran Evans was sorted into Gryffindor, after seven minutes of silence. It was one of the longest times Ron remembered anyone being under the Hat. Though, to be fair, he had only been to a Sorting two times before.

Farran walked to the Gryffindor table and sat next to Neville.

"You know, Farran," Ron started saying. "I didn't think-"

"That I'd end up in Gryffindor?" Farran sneered at Ron with a raised eyebrow. "All I did was demand the Hat to not place me in Ravenclaw. Their common room can be opened by anyone with enough sense to solve a single riddle. There's no point in being a Ravenclaw, privacy-wise. I don't lose anything - anyone with half a brain can enter the Ravenclaw Tower." Farran patted his bookbag - _Hogwarts, A History_ was peeking out the top.

Farran then shrugged nonchalantly. "Once I said I wouldn't accept Ravenclaw, it chose Gryffindor for me instead."

"Oh." That was all Ron could say on the matter.

The Sorting continued like that until everyone had been Sorted. At the end of it, Harry and Hermione returned from the infirmary. They had been there since the train had arrived, nearly instantly carted off by Madam Pomfrey since they were unconscious.

Neville, Farran, and Ginny had badgered him about what on Earth happened in the compartment, particularly with him transforming into an "orange-dog thing". Ron told them that he would answer the questions when they had privacy. Neville had accepted this easily, but Farran and Ginny continued badgering him until they realized he simply wouldn't answer until they had privacy.

The feast was like usual, and Ron was grateful for the strength it had restored to him. Once the feast started, Hermione perked up quickly, until she was laughing and eating like the rest of them. Ron realized that the Kirlia bit of her was what was changing her mood so quickly.

Harry, though, was a little more sullen, and wouldn't answer Ron when he asked why.

Then the speech started.

"Dementors!" Ron whispered under his breath, furious yet bewildered. He _had_ heard of them before, though never described. The soulless monster that haunts Azkaban - the Dementor. And he had _fought_ one off in the train - even killed it!

Of course, the news that Hagrid was the Care of Magical Creatures professor was shocking as well - no wonder their book had bitten him! Professor Lupin was also the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - thought Ron still didn't know what to think of him.

After the feast and the speech had ended, they congratulated Hagrid quickly, before returning to the Gryffindor common room.

There, he, Harry, and Hermione were interrupted by Farran, Neville, and Ginny before they could make it into the third-year dorms.

"Explain, _now_." Farran's curt voice cut right through him. "What was with the weird orange dog-thing?"

At Harry and Hermione's questioning looks (he hadn't told them about the encounter with the Dementors on the train), Ron sighed.

"It's a long story," he attempted to dissuade half-heartedly.

Ginny's eyes raised skeptically.

Oh, well.

"It started back in the pyramid, in Egypt…"

* * *

**You know, Hermione is one of the hardest characters in**** the series to pin down, personality-wise. If you can think of a positive adjective, chances are Hermione fits the bill to some degree. Smart, funny, loyal, kind, energetic, etc. I eventually connected her to the Ralts line. **

**Some of the other candidates were: Espeon, Uxie, Duosion (a bit of a stretch), Alakazam, etc.**

**Other than that, yeah. Anima can kill Dementors - go figure. As a metaphor for depression, the invulnerability of Dementors makes sense - but I don't really care for Dementors as that metaphor. So the beast of the soul can kill the things that suck on souls, end of story.**

**As for Farran and why he's a Gryffindor - he already explained his personal reasoning for avoiding Ravenclaw, and Slytherins denies him based on blood purity. Remember, the Hat was supposed to separated the students based on what the founders thought would make their ideal student, and blood purity is canonically one of Slytherin's requirements. **

**That left Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, and ultimately the Sorting Hat thought that the noble and courageous Gryffindors would be a good fit for Farran.**

**That, and I have further use for Farran. He wouldn't interact with Ron and Harry much in Ravenclaw.**

**Other than that, there's nothing I have to say. If you have any suggestions or feedback, or just really want to say something about the story so far, feel free to leave a review. I enjoy reading them (not the ones that attack me and call me a shit writer without _actually_ saying why I'm a shit writer).**

**Don't forget to follow and favorite!**

**Thank you, and goodbye!**


	5. (N)athaniel Scamander

Ron wasn't very pleased when he woke up the next morning - spots danced painfully behind as his eyes as he slowly got up.

Everyone in the dormitory (except for Harry) had already gone down for breakfast.

Then Ron felt a small spark burn his shoulder

"Argh!" He got up near-instantly and clutched his wand, whirling it in the direction of an annoyed Shinx-Harry. "What do you think you're doing, Harry?!"

Shinx-Harry meowed with a frown on his face. Then he turned back into Human-Harry. "Ron, get up. Let's go to the Great Hall already."

Ron blinked. "Breakfast?"

Harry, though, was already leaving. "Get your clothes on," Harry ordered. "Hermione's waiting for us downstairs."

"You're in a bad mood, aren't you?" Ron muttered while slinging on his robes. Harry didn't bother looking at him but just sighed under his breath.

"Sure."

Down in the common room, they met a rather impatient Hermione. "Ron, why did you take so long?! We're going to miss our first day of classes!" Contrary to her tone, Hermione had a great big smile on her face.

Ron yawned as they walked out of the common room. "What's with you, Hermione?" he idly asked. "You seem happier than usual."

"It's the sun," Hermione promptly answered, closing her eyes and doing a few skips through the corridors, her bag not jostled in the slightest. "I feel so alive right now! Much better than I did last night, anyway."

Ron turned to Harry. "Anima?"

Harry shrugged. "Probably."

Hermione turned to them. "Oh, yes, I rechecked what you had written, Ron. What I'm feeling is perfectly in line with the entry. Kirlia feel energized and empowered in the morning sunlight, so this is probably an aftereffect of that. I'll probably have to rewrite my studying schedule as a result."

Despite the promise of more work for herself, Hermione still looked remarkably cheery. Her mood was infectious, and soon enough Ron and Harry found themselves grinning as well. Within a short while, they found themselves in the Great Hall.

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson called out. "The Dementors are coming, Potter! Woooooooooo!"

Harry grit his teeth as Ron stared down Parkinson.

"Oi, Parkinson! Shut up!" Ignoring Hermione's frantic pleas for him to quiet down, he continued. "You deal with a Dementor!"

Parkinson continued unabated, clearly enjoying Ron's anger. "Potter, _be careful_! After all, no one wants you to," here, she 'stifled' a snicker. "Faint, wouldn't they."

Ron was about to lunge forward, but Hermione held him down. It was only barely, though, because she held a great rage in her eyes as well.

"I could've burned her, Hermione," Ron argued, as a small flame leaped into the palm of his hand. "I could have burned her, and she'd-"

"Snape would have given you detention," Harry interrupted with a low voice, pointing to the staff table. And lo and behold, Snape was staring at them with his cold, empty eyes.

Ron sat down, scowling. "Gits," he muttered as a final protest. "I'd like to see how _they'd_ react when they come across a Dementor."

"Snivelling and crying, mostly," Fred answered, passing them their schedules. "Nearly wet themselves, too. Came running into our compartment, didn't they, George?" George nodded his agreement while drinking orange juice.

Ron let the image sink into his head. It settled in quite nicely.

"Wasn't too happy myself, though. Dementors don't give you room to breath - we had to leave while the Dementors did their 'searching'."

"Did any of you pass out?" Harry asked urgently. "Hermione and I did, after all."

George shook his head. "We never got close enough for something like that to happen." He looked at Harry with a small grin on his face, before gesturing at the pantomiming Malfoy. "Look on the bright side, though - the first game of the season is against the Slytherins. Let's see how happy he looks then."

Harry brightened considerably then, and so did Ron. Another image appeared in his mind, of Malfoy's smug skull being split open by a Bludger while Harry snagged the Snitch from right under his nose.

Ron smiled, as he continued eating his breakfast.

"Quidditch is the game that's played on the brooms, right?" Farran sat down next to them, reading a textbook while eating. "How can _any_ of you enjoy that?"

Ron frowned. "If you'd get on a broom, you'd see how great Quidditch is!"

"Not likely." With that, Farran returned to his textbook, disconnecting himself from the conversation entirely.

Figures a prat like him wouldn't like Quidditch - Quidditch, of all things! Who doesn't like Quidditch?!

Last night, after Ron had told Neville, Farran, and Ginny everything (with Harry and Hermione filling in some of the gaps), Farran demanded to awaken his Anima - some weird metal thing with two arms. Ron didn't particularly mind at the time, but now that Farran was much ruder than he was previously, Ron found himself regretting his decision.

Of course, Farran had decided that he had wanted to know his Anima's exact powerset, but Ron was beyond tired at this point. So he had told Farran that he would tell him in a short while.

Ron should _probably_ get on that, but he would take his sweet, sweet time. It wasn't like Farran had figured out half of it by the time he had gone to sleep downstairs. Ron _had_ made sure to impress the need for Farran to keep the amulet and everything else a secret. He had complained but ultimately bowed to Ron's will.

Neville and Ginny were _much_ more worried when they found out about the Anima and the amulet. When Ron offered to awaken their Animas, Neville immediately denied it, before running into the dormitory and hiding under his sheets.

Neither he nor Harry knew if Neville was going to tell on them - Neville was an alright bloke, but Ron remembered the first year when he tried to stop them from getting to the Stone. They won the Cup because of it, but they also found out that Neville wasn't exactly the most _reliable_ bloke when it comes to hiding things from adults.

Ron was going to _talk_ to Neville some point soon, to make sure he didn't tattle. Regardless of what Harry thought, this secrecy was important to him.

Ginny, on the other hand, was largely accepting. It didn't take too long for her to connect the Floo Powder incident to the amulet and Anima.

"You're the Heliopath!," she had said with a strange sense of awe.

Ron had blinked, as Hermione frowned at Ginny. "Heliopath?"

"Luna - she's a friend of mine - saw your Anima appear in her living room. She thought it was a Heliopath, some beast her dad had cooked up in his mind." Ginny, at that point, had run up to her room and brought down an issue of the Quibbler. "You're in it."

Ron took the magazine. On the front cover was a blurry picture of his Anima form, as well as the title, '_**ESCAPEE HELIOPATH SIGHTED! ROTFANG CONSPIRACY UNRAVELED!**_'/

"Rotfang conspiracy?" Ron asked faintly. "What's the Rotfang Conspiracy?"

"Luna's dad thinks that Heliopaths are conspiring to take over the Ministry by attacking our gums, or something like that." Ginny shrugged. "No one believes this anyway - most wizards are thinking the picture is of some dog that he used a Color-Change Charm on."

Ron handed the magazine over.

"Fred and George believe it, though - they saw it first hand," Ginny went on. "Are you going to tell them?"

"Er," Ron looked away. "Probably not. You know how they are."

It was a testament to their infamy that everyone in the room understood - even the lonely Farran, who had been busy experimenting with his Anima off to the side.

Other than that, Ginny had only a passing interest in what her Anima was - some reddish-orange fox with six tails. At this, Hermione looked thoughtful.

"I think I've heard a magical creature like that before, in Japan," she informed them. "Let's ask Hagrid about that tomorrow, he'll probably know all about it."

Ginny had nothing else to say, though, and said that she didn't want to deal with turning into an Anima (she remembered the pain Ron had described).

She had wanted to say something else after that, but Harry had come back into the room at that point (Hermione had sent him out to allow Ginny to speak and to watch for anyone looking into the room they were using).

Ron brought himself back to the present and took a look at his schedule.

"Divination, then Transfiguration," Ron noted, looking intently at the schedule. "Then, after lunch, we have Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid until dinnertime."

Harry, at that point, got up, finishing with his food. Hermione did the same, neatly wiping her mouth with a napkin.

Ron quickly shoveled the rest of the food into his mouth and followed them out of the Great Hall, and up to Divination.

Of course, as they had never been up to the North Tower before, they soon got lost. It was drawing nearer to 9 o'clock, which was when the class would take place. In desperation, they asked one of the portraits the way up the tower.

That portrait turned out to be Sir Cadogan, the Barmy Knight, and Ron wished he had asked some other portrait to take him up to the tower.

"That 'knight' was mental,' Ron muttered to Harry as they climbed up the stairs of the Divination Tower. "I wish we'd never-"

Then the _smell_ hit him.

Heavy, _heavy_ perfume started wafting into his nose, making him feel light-headed. He grabbed the landing uncertainly as Harry hoisted him up to the Divination classroom.

Ron could only barely tolerate the smell if he plugged his nose with his hands - and the 'barely' was a close borderline. Ron staggered his way into a chair, before collapsing painfully on it.

This was a _bad_ idea.

"Welcome, students. It is nice to see you in the physical world at last. Please, sit."

The professor came into view from the shadows, looking remarkably like a bug. Everyone else sat into chairs after she asked them to. Harry and Hermione sat next to him

"Welcome to Divination," the professor started, transfixing them all with her gaze. "My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I find that descending-"

That was all Ron could hear before his vision started giving out under his eyes. He desperately tried to keep conscious, but strange and esoteric thoughts and ideas flew into his head, like a llama wearing hats and a duck asking a Muggle if he could eat grapes at a lemonade stand.

Then, in a moment of weakness, his hand let go of his nose, and the smells intensified until he could no longer stand it. He slumped over, the smells finally overpowering his conscious mind.

* * *

"Eurgh…" Ron's mind came blearily into focus, as he saw a white wall hand over him.

"Oh, good, you're awake." Madam Pomfrey came into view, before pulling a sheet of parchment into his view with a drawing of unicorns on it. "Tell me, how many unicorns do you see."

"Ten… seven… nine… three?" The number of unicorns kept shifting and changing. He must have hit his head harder than he thought.

"Good, you can see the changes in the numbers." As Ron slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position, he could see the moving pictures of unicorns on the page, which increased and decreased randomly. His vision wasn't nearly as bad as he thought.

"You gave your classmates quite a scare, you know. Suddenly falling unconscious in the middle of class - Professor Trelawney thought you were having a vision and fought hard to keep you in the class so you could tell the class what you 'foresaw'."

"I didn't 'foresee' anything," he protested. "The smell in that room was _awful_ \- I could hardly think!"

Madam Pomfrey nodded as she made a few notes on a parchment paper. "Oh, I've heard of the problems that room has caused. That _odor_," she said with vitriol. "Has caused no less than twenty-six students with nausea to vomiting. I've _asked_ the Professor to lessen the amount of perfume she uses, or get rid of it entirely, but she _won't_ listen!"

Ron groaned at Madam Pomfrey's complaints.

Madam Pomfrey started looking him over again. "Are you feeling lightheaded? Nauseated?" She walked over to the potion cabinet, just in case.

"No, Madam Pomfrey," Ron weakly protested. "I'm just a little tired." He slowly got to his feet, causing Madam Pomfrey's eyes to narrow. He then took a few weak steps, before growing in strength again. "I'm alright - I just need to walk the remnants of the smell off."

Ron could see the gears turning in Madam Pomfrey's head. On one hand, he _seemed_ in good health, and she probably needed to get to other things. The other hand was still filled with worry.

"Very well," she finally decided. "Your Divination class is already over - I suggest you get to Transfiguration at the earliest possible opportunity.

Ron nodded - and with that, Madam Pomfrey sent him off with a clean bill of health. After that, Ron snuck his way into Transfiguration silently, breathing a sigh of relief when Professor McGonagall tersely nodded to him as he sat in the only seat available off to the corner, away from Harry and Hermione.

Ron was forced to plug his nose through the majority of Transfiguration. It was still sensitive, and would occasionally send spikes of pain into his head. The lingering perfume from Transfiguration didn't help in the slightest, and Ron began to wonder if this was what he was going to feel whenever he had Divination.

Ron would have to skive if he wanted to keep his sanity, and he didn't look forward to explaining that to Professor McGonagall or his mother. It would be necessary, though.

Ron, bored, doodled on his parchment for a little while. He wasn't very good at it, though, and after drawing a strange beast instead of the intended Growlithe he decided to scrap the idea.

So Ron, having nothing else to do, decided to pay attention to the lecture for once. Hermione would probably be happy he wouldn't have to copy off her notes.

"... the Animagus," Professor McGonagall was introducing. "Is a remarkable phenomenon. Through a grueling set of rituals and enchantments, the average wizard will gain the ability to transform themselves into an animal - like so."

Professor McGonagall then shifted and changed on the spot, turning into an unassuming tabby cat with square spectacle markings around its eyes.

The cat walked across the classroom, before transforming back into Professor McGonagall. "Really, what's gotten into all of you today? Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Ron wasn't impressed personally, due to having an Anima transformation (which was better than the Animagus transformation in every possible way). He would have thought the others would have been impressed, though - the ones that _didn't_ know about the Anima.

But they were unimpressed too. They were frowning as though they were thinking about something unpleasant. Everyone's head turned to a pale Harry, as though, continuing to frown.

Then Hermione explained what had happened in Divination to Professor McGonagall, and Ron in the process.

Ron had a funny feeling in his stomach unrelated to the perfume. Harry had the Grim in his tea. That was a dark omen if he had ever seen one.

Then Professor McGonagall explained that Trelawney had predicted deaths for over a decade, and not a single one has come true. It didn't assuage the class's fears that much - except for Ron, whose opinion of Trelawney kept growing lower and lower.

Ron kept stewing on it - the overpowering perfume, the fake predictions - Ron was starting to realize that choosing Divination was a bad idea.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall went back to the lesson on Animagi, though Ron couldn't pay attention anymore. He didn't see the point when Growlithe would suit all of his needs. From what Professor McGonagall had been saying, it took a year or two to master the transformation, and that was when you were lucky.

The Anima transformation, on the other hand, took only a few seconds of pain before you gained the ability. Not to mention the incredible powers you gained, instead of just turning into another boring animal.

Professor McGonagall's lecture continued without pause, and soon enough the bell had rung. Harry and Hermione left for lunch, not knowing Ron had been there, leaving Ron in the classroom by himself.

Ron would catch up to them soon - but for now, he decided he had to talk to Professor McGonagall.

"Professor McGonagall?" Ron asked, voice terse. Professor McGonagall looked rather surprised - he had rarely come after class to talk to her, and never without Harry at his side.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley," she greeted. "Might I ask why you weren't sitting with Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger today?"

"I, er, had to go to the hospital wing," Ron explained. "I fainted during Divination."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Why?" she asked simply.

"It was because of Professor Trelawney's perfume. I couldn't stand it."

Professor McGonagall sniffed. "Her perfume?" She asked, mouth upturned. "I have heard complaints of it before, and it _has_ caused several students to throw up - but it has never caused anyone to faint before."

"It knocked me out," Ron insisted. "It was awful, Professor McGonagall - just _awful_."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I see. Unfortunately, Mr. Weasley, you have no choice in the matter," she told him tersely. "You had chosen only two electives, Mr. Weasley, and all students need to take two elective until they have completed the O.W.L. tests."

"Then I'll change my courses!" Ron didn't want to even _imagine_ going back to the Divination classroom. "It's still the start of the school year, right? I can catch up!"

Professor McGonagall looked at Ron, intrigued. "I must say," she finally uttered. "That I was thinking you were simply trying to get out of having to do one of your electives. If you _truly_ regret picking Divination, Mr. Weasley, then I will allow it."

Ron's face broke out into a grin, but Professor McGonagall wasn't finished. "However, if you wish to change courses, then you must come to me with your decision for a new course before curfew tonight so that I can make the changes. Understood?

"Yes, Professor McGonagall." He wasn't going to waste this chance to get out of Divination and save his nose.

"Very well. Mr. Scamander?" She said to someone behind him. Ron turned to see that someone had been wishing to speak with Professor McGonagall as well, and was standing behind him waiting for his turn.

His face was someone that Ron had seen around in classes now and again, though Ron couldn't quite place his name. Judging from the badge on his robes, he was a Ravenclaw as well."

Scamander began idly twirling around his wand in his hand. "Er, yes, Professor? I wanted to ask some questions about Animagi - namely, what is the actual process of becoming one? You said the various theories behind becoming an Animagus and the benefits it would provide, but not the actual way of becoming an Animagus."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Scamander, I don't think you are ready to start the process to become an Animagus. While I commend you for your initiative, you should start the process after you graduate from…"

The conversation continued on and on, and soon Ron's stomach began to rumble - it was lunchtime. He had spent enough time talking to Professor McGonagall - it was time to feed himself.

Ron made to leave - but then his bag split.

Ink bottles, textbooks, quills - everything fell at his feet and started rolling everywhere. Ron cursed under his breath as he started collecting everything, mending his bag with a small _Reparo_.

Strangely, though, all of the materials from his bag started rolling away from him, needing him to stretch to pick them up - and when he put them back in the bag, they fell out for _no_ reason.

He had been pranked - Fred and George, most likely. How, though - Ron hadn't seen them cast any spells when they were sitting with him at breakfast earlier today, and why _now_?!

"... thank you, Professor," Scamander concluded, his wand twirling coming to a stop. "I appreciate your advice."

"Of course," Professor McGonagall nodded. "My door is open if you need me." She looked at Ron, till trying to pick up his things, and waved her wand. In a small flurry of motion, all of his things fell back into his bag, which he picked up with a small grimace. "You two should be getting to lunch. I'll be expecting your decision by tonight, Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, Professor." He and Scamander walked out of the classroom. Ron was going to go back to Harry and Hermione in the Great Hall, to tell them about what happened, but stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hold up, Ron." Scamander looked at him with a terse face. "I need to talk to you."

"Oh, bugger off." Ron pushed Scamander's hand off his shoulder. "I have to go eat lunch - I don't have time for what you have to say, Scamander."

"Call me Nathaniel, Ron." Hold on - did Ron ever introduce himself to Scamander. "And I didn't come here only to talk to Professor McGonagall. I'd think you'd do well to listen to what I have to say."

"What are you talking about…" Then it hit him. The bag!

"You were the one that ripped my bag!" Ron gripped his wand tightly. "You arse!"

"Sorry about that." Scamander apologized nonchalantly. "I had to keep you here for a small while - and a bit of non-verbal magic helps immensely."

"Non-what?"

"Non-verbal magic," Scamander explained off-handedly. "You broadcast the incantation into your wand, much like Legilimency. It's a useful trick."

Legilimency - there was that word again. Ron would have to ask Hermione about it.

"Anyway, yes, I was the one who ripped your bag. That's not the main point here-"

Ron scoffed. "Easy for you to say, Scamander."

"- since there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. Something is _different_ about you this year, Weasley." Scamander was silent for a second. "It's not just you - your friends Harry and Hermione are different too. They left before I could say anything, though, so you were the next best option."

Ron gritted his teeth as his ears turned red. "Next best option?" His wand started shooting off spurts of flame at that - which coiled lazily around his wand. "You want to say that again?"

Scamander, though, bent down to look at Ron's wand, his face ending up an inch away from the wand. Ron felt the urge to poke him in the eye with it.

"Fascinating," Scamander breathed. "Your accidental magic - it's stronger than before. I've only mildly irritated you, but to create such an effect... what happened to you this summer? What formula could I devise…" Scamander shook his head, before getting back up. "Don't you see - your magic has fundamentally changed!"

Ron was beginning to be incredibly unnerved by Scamander. "What's it to you, Scamander?"

"Curiosity - nothing more, nothing less," Scamander answered easily. "I don't care for a detention or two since this is so much more important. What I am curious about, if you are wondering, is your strengthened connection."

"Strengthened connection?" Ron was getting another inkling of what Scamander was saying, as the amulet tightened around his neck slightly. "What - what are you talking about?"

Scamander looked at Ron one final time. "If there are any other changes like this, I will know," he finally stated. "If it would be at all possible, please tell me if any other changes occur. After all, changes like these - they spread like a chemical reaction. They can affect the whole world." Scamander then started walking away from Ron.

Ron couldn't help but think that he was mental. Still, what he was saying resonated somewhere deep inside him. Almost without thinking about it, he pulled out the amulet from within his robes and brought it to his eyes before looking at Scamander.

Instead of the Anima he was expecting, Ron saw a man in Scamander's place - and what an _odd_ man. He was wearing Muggle clothing, with what looked like an odd cube hanging from with waist and a small top or planet on a necklace. What was the strangest, though, was his hair - a bright, yet soft shade of green.

Then the man turned to look at Ron.

"What do you see, Weasley?" Scamander asked, the man echoing his words. "You are looking at me - what do you see?"

Ron shakily put down the amulet. "A man," he breathed. "A Muggle… with green hair?"

Scamander's eyes widened as his face split into a grin. "Wonderful - absolutely, positively wonderful!" Scamander started walking away again - before he walked out of sight, though, he said one last thing.

"And Ron?" Scamander gained a strange light in his eyes. "You can call me… N."

* * *

Ron made his way idly to the Great Hall, though he no longer had an appetite. Hopefully, he'd be able to meet up with Harry and Hermione again, to see what advice they would have on what he should have for his new elective.

Ron felt the amulet around his neck, heavier than usual. His encounter with Scamander - N - was bizarre. Who _was_ that green-haired man? Where was Scamander's Anima?

And how much did Scamander know?

Ron sat at the table, near Harry and Hermione, and thoughtlessly pushed some bread into his mouth as Hermione fretted near him.

"Ron, are you okay? You hit your head rather hard?"

Ron waved her off. "It was the perfume - my nose started feeling funny and I passed out. Madam Pomfrey fixed me up quickly enough."

Hermione seemed pacified enough at this, and so the topic of discussion changed to what happened after Ron had been carted off to the hospital wing. Hermione repeated what she said in Transfiguration, saying that Trelawney had seen the Grim in his tea.

Ron reminded her what Professor McGonagall had said during Transfiguration, before telling her that, yes, he was there.

"I sort of snuck inside Hermione," he said nonchalantly. "Professor McGonagall probably knew I wasn't late since I was in the Hospital Wing."

"So why didn't you come with us to lunch, then?" Harry asked, curious.

"I went to ask Professor McGonagall if I could change classes," Ron answered brusquely. "I'm not going back if I can help it. I'll probably pass out again."

Harry and Hermione reacted somewhat differently to what Ron said. Harry became despondent, eyes shadowing as he looked away. He had chosen what Ron had chosen - he probably had just chose Divination to match him. He was probably a little disappointed in that regard.

Hermione, though, was ecstatic. "Ooh, there are so many classes you could choose! There's Arithmancy, it's my favorite class so far, and it's so wonderful! Professor Vector is…"

Hermione went off on another of her rants, which Ron paid only half-attention to. He'd figure it out later when he had some time to himself.

Eventually, the time to go to Care of Magical Creatures had come. Out of curiosity, he had looked at the textbook, the Monster Book of Monsters, with the amulet and saw a web of veins in it - much like the Dementor had.

Was it alive? Was it dead?

Ron eventually figured that it didn't matter anyway. Strangely, he had seen a line of circles along the book's spine. Touching the small circles, Ron saw the book quiet and relax in his grasp. Passing the secret to Harry and Hermione, Ron saw their books become docile as well.

And it looked like they were the only ones to figure it out as well. Everyone else's books were wrapped up in belts, Spellotape, or various other bindings, and were chafing at the bit to free themselves from their imprisonment. Malfoy's had been done up with a gold-threaded rope, yet was struggling the hardest.

Malfoy looked at the three of them and their books - their calm, pacified books. He sneered but remained silent.

Ron's grin grew. "Cat got your tongue, Malfoy?"

"As if, Weasley." Malfoy's eyes glinted. "Let me guess - you've been hanging around that oaf for so long that you're beginning to smell like those beasts." Malfoy plugged his nose in mockery. "I think I can smell it on you right now, Weasley. Is that why _you_ didn't faint last night - your smell was _that_ bad to the Dementors?"

"Oi, pipe down back there!" While he and Malfoy had been attacking each other, Hagrid had introduced himself to the class. "Now, class, open yer books ter page twelve an'-"

"How?" Parkinson asked with derision. "Exactly _how_ are we supposed to open them?"

Hagrid opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione answered Parkinson before he could. "It's very, _very_ simple, _Pansy_," she smugly stated. "You simply have to stroke them."

Then, in front of the whole class, Hermione snatched the book from Parkinson's grip, before running her finger along its length. It lethargically opened its maw, relaxing in Hermione's palm.

She handed the book back over to Parkinson. "See?" Her grin was infectious, and Ron felt a small smile stretch across his face as well.

"_Exactly_!" Hagrid beamed. "Ten points ter Gryffindor!"

The rest of the class followed suit, and their books relaxed in their hands as well. Some of them were shooting thankful looks at Hermione, who beamed at the silent praise. Ron felt a familiar and strange feeling echo in his chest.

"You know, Hagrid, _I_ was the one who figured out how to calm the books down, not Hermione," Ron tried to correct - but Hagrid, as well as everyone else, was busy looking at the beasts with the paddock. Ron sighed as he tried to bury the feelings deep within his chest.

Ron took a look at the beasts - Hippogriffs, their name was. They strutted and walked across the clearing drawing plenty of admirers and awestruck gasps.

Then Hagrid said that they were going to have to pet them, which brought about a very different reaction - namely, one of fright and nervousness. The raw power the Hippogriffs tossed around was apparent - one wrong move could go very, _very_ badly.

"Who wants ter go firs'?" Hagrid looked at Hermione with great expectations - yet she looked as nervous as the rest of them, and backed away too - they were _that_ frightening.

Strangely, Ron wasn't as frightened of them as everyone else was. Maybe it was the spiders and the Chamber from last year, or the pyramid and the Nundu, or the Dementor attack last night, but Ron found himself not as afraid of the Hippogriff. It didn't hold a candle to the previous things he had fought - and one that he had killed.

"I'll do it, Hagrid." He stepped forward, just as Harry was in the process of opening his mouth. Not today, Harry. "I'll ride the Hippogriff."

"Good man, Ron!" Hagrid roared as Ron climbed over the paddock's walls. "Now, what you've got ter do is ter bow down ter the Hippogriff - here, use Buckbeak." Hagrid led one of the Hippogriffs, a rather handsome one, to where Ron was standing.

"Make sure the bow is nice an' deep, Ron," Hagrid guided as Ron faced Buckbeak. "An' make sure ter keep yer eye-contact going strong - Hippogriffs look deep in 'em to make sure yer a strong person."

Ron sank into the bow, making sure his gaze was firmly fixed on Buckbeak's. After a few seconds, which Ron felt rather vulnerable to the talons lying only a meter or two from his neck, Buckbeak too fell into a bow.

"Good job, Ron!" Hagrid was ecstatic. "Now, try pattin' him on his beak - he'll like that!"

Ron gingerly patted Buckbeak's beak. The Hippogriff's eyes lazily closed as the class looked at Ron with surprise.

"There ye go!" Hagrid turned back to the rest of the class. "Who's next?"

* * *

"'Spect it's a record," Hagrid said thickly when he saw Ron, Harry, and Hermione enter his hut. "Don' reckon they've ever had a teacher who lasted on'y a day before."

"You haven't been fired yet, have you?!" Hermione gasped.

Hagrid shook his head. "Not yet," he miserably stated, while taking a big swig from his tankard. "But Malfoy 'll be on me and Beaky's tail, and then I'll be sacked an' Beaky 'll be…"

It went on like that for quite a while. Eventually, though, the three of them managed to console Hagrid, convincing him that since he would have Dumbledore on his side, he and Buckbeak would be able to get through this.

Unfortunately, Hagrid kicked them out only a few minutes later - Sirius Black was still a large worry. They soon were trekking back up to the castle walls, the sun falling rapidly.

"Ron?" Hermione asked, looking at him. "Have you chosen what you want your new elective to be?"

Ron groaned, remembering that the decision had to be made tonight, before curfew - which meant _now_.

"I don't know, honestly," he confessed. "Muggle Studies sounds as boring as they come, Arithmancy sounds too difficult, and Ancient Runes-"

"Study of Ancient Runes, Ron."

"-It just sounds like a lot of memorizing."

"Well," Harry offered. "I'd say Muggle Studies. Remember what happened this summer, Ron - when you called me?"

Right - the fellytone incident.

"I dunno, Harry," Ron evaded. "I mean, I'm never going to use a fellytone-"

"Telephone."

"Telephone, ever again. There's nothing the Muggles have that wizards don't," Ron reminded them.

"_Actually_, Ron, wizards don't have cinemas or calculators, they've never gone to the moon-"

Ron groaned again - Hermione was sounding _just_ like Farran. "_Anyway_, the other two _have_ to be better options."

Hermione looked unimpressed. "There's Arithmancy," she eventually said. "It'll take a bit of work, but you'll be able to see your future."

Ron scoffed. "That just sounds like Divination, except there's more work to it. Doesn't your Kirlia form have the ability to see into the future, by the way?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes - I've tried it out, and while I've gotten some small flashes, it isn't much. Once I get good at Divination, I expect it to be much better." She sounded very hopeful and excited at the prospect.

"So that just leaves you with Runes, then."

"Study of Ancient Runes! Call the subjects by their proper names!" Hermione admonished.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It leaves you with Study of Ancient Runes, then."

"But it sounds so _boring_," Ron complained again. "I've _never_ seen anyone other than Bill need to know anything about runes - and after this summer, I _definitely _don't want to be a Curse-Breaker!"

"You have to choose, Ron." Hermione unhelpfully reminded him as they climbed into the castle and started heading toward Professor McGonagall's chambers. "It's either one of them or Divination."

Ron had to admit that whatever he chose would be monumentally better than the torture he had received today in Divination. So where did that leave him?

The useless Muggle Studies, the even more useless Study of Ancient Runes, and the difficult Arithmancy - which did he choose?

The closer they got to Professor McGonagall's door, the more the choice befuddled him. He couldn't concentrate as Harry and Hermione idly chatted next to him, and soon enough they arrived at her door, Ron not having made his decision yet.

"Come in," Professor McGonagall answered, and the three of them walked in. Professor McGonagall's mouth upturned at the sight of Harry. "Mr. Potter, I must say that it is rather _dangerous _for you to be in the castle's corridors at this time. Perhaps you would like to return to the common room?"

Sirius Black, right - he was still important.

Then Harry and Hermione left for the common room, leaving Ron alone with the Professor. He felt the pit of his stomach drop to his toes.

"Well, Mr. Weasley?" Professor McGonagall looked at him intently. "What course do you wish to transfer to?"

Ron's mouth went dry. "I - I would like to transfer to…"

Think…. Think!

"Alchemy?"

Why did he say _that_?

"Alchemy." Professor McGonagall's voice was unimpressed. "You wish to study… Alchemy."

"Yes?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "Very funny, Mr. Weasley. No, you may not study Alchemy - there are enough accidents enough with Professor Dumbledore's teaching methods."

"Professor Dumbledore teaches Alchemy?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley - but to bright and talented students, of those in their upper years. Not to someone like you."

Ron's eyes flashed. "What are you saying, Professor?"

"I'm saying that even if Alchemy _was _available to third-years like yourself," she casually said. "I wouldn't be able to approve of your studying it. Please don't take this as an insult, Mr. Weasley."

A small burst of flame leaped into Ron's mouth, undetected by Professor McGonagall. "I'm _capable_, Professor McGonagall," he insisted. "I'll be able to take it." He felt the oddest urge to take this chance - if nothing else because he had to show Professor McGonagall she was wrong about him.

"Cease this foolishness, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall looked at him very seriously. "If this is your decision, then I'm afraid that you will have to stay in Divination. This is your final warning."

Ron _knew_ that he should apologize, _knew_ that he should say Muggle Studies or Arithmancy or whatever. But when he tried to open his mouth to say that 'yes, of course, alright' he found that he couldn't. Partially out of stubborn pride, partially because flame would leap out of his mouth if he did so.

"Very well, Mr. Weasley." Professor McGonagall had an utterly disappointed look on her face. "Twenty points from Gryffindor, for indecisiveness and wasting my time. I hope you're happy with your 'decision', Mr. Weasley."

"What decision are you referring to, Minerva?" An old voice echoed behind Professor McGonagall. They turned to see Professor Dumbledore stumbling out of the fire, looking entirely nonplussed.

"Headmaster?" Professor McGonagall, bemused, asked the headmaster. "May I ask you what the purpose of this visit is?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Is it too much to ask for me to come and visit? It gets rather lonely at times in my tower."

Professor McGonagall huffed. "I understand, Headmaster."

Dumbledore took a look at Mr. Weasley. "Why, hello there Mr. Weasley. May I ask what you are doing here?"

"I've come to change my course," Ron told Dumbledore. "I fainted in Divination earlier today, and I don't exactly want to return. The perfume was too smelly for me"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, Mr. Weasley, when I find myself with a particularly strong odor, I use a clothespin to plug my nose - ah, but I imagine you would find that rather painful after a while. Then which course do you wish to change to, Mr. Weasley."

"Yes, Mr. Weasley." Professor McGonagall shot a strong look at him. "Which course do you wish to?" The look in her eyes promised retribution if he didn't say one of the previous courses.

Ron, though, dug in his heels. "Alchemy," he said with absolute finality. His spur-of-the-moment decision had become absolute to him, for some reason.

Dumbledore stroked his beard, his eyes distant. "Alchemy." He finally said. "You wish to study Alchemy. You _do_ know the risks, right - alchemical accidents and the like?"

Professor McGonagall snorted as Ron nodded. "It doesn't matter - I want to study Alchemy."

Dumbledore looked deep into Ron's eyes - and for a second, Ron felt something niggling in the back of his head.

Then Dumbledore smiled. "I don't see why not."

You could hear a pin drop in the room, as Ron and Professor McGonagall turned to look at Dumbledore incredulously.

"Pardon me?" Professor McGonagall's voice was faint. "Headmaster, could you repeat that?"

"Mr. Weasley is very determined to learn Alchemy, Minerva. There are Alchemy texts in the library - I could see him self-studying in it. Such a thing would be very dangerous, though - so I imagine Mr. Weasley wouldn't be averse to supervision, wouldn't he?"

"Headmaster!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, scandalized. "You can't be serious! Mr. Weasley is a third-year - and you consider only sixth and seventh years responsible enough for learning Alchemy!"

Dumbledore sighed. "Times have changed, Minerva," he admitted. "The truth of the matter is that compared to other schools, our Alchemy program is rather weak due to its exclusivity to the upper years. The Ministry has been pressuring me to admit more students in the Alchemy course."

Professor McGonagall swallowed. "Does that mean…"

"It means, Minerva, that I've had to revise the Alchemy course to match a third-year elective. It's taken me several years, but I believe I have come across a workable schedule." Dumbledore rubbed his temples, before looking at Ron. "Do you truly wish to learn Alchemy, Ron?

Ron nodded. It was… strange. Learning Alchemy promised to be harder than Arithmancy, and it may be as boring as Muggle Studies or Ancient Runes, but he felt much more sure of himself now.

"Yes." His conviction was palpable.

Dumbledore turned to Minerva. "Mr. Weasley isn't at the top of his class - in fact, he sits at a fair average. If he can learn Alchemy using my newly devised methods, I will have a good case for the board of governors."

Professor McGonagall looked at Ron, then back at Dumbledore. She then sighed. "I see… I still must argue against it," she finally said. Then she seemed to have a small epiphany. "Headmaster - are there any other candidates you would like to have as part of the initial Alchemy class?" She seemed rather hopeful at this

Dumbledore hummed. "Not yet, no. After all, I had only finished the plans a month ago, and no one else has stood out yet." He nodded. "Excellent idea, though, Minerva - I won't hold any classes until next week. That should give you and the other heads ample time to find other candidates for the course."

Professor McGonagall slowly nodded. "I see. I will have to prepare something for that, then." She looked like she'd rather swallow a lemon. "Is there anything else you want, Headmaster?"

"Oh, nothing in particular." Dumbledore walked back through the fireplace, waving at Ron. "I will be seeing you next week, Mr. Weasley."

* * *

**Metang**

**Category: Iron Claw Anima**

**Abilities: Clear Body, Light Metal**

**Type: Steel, Psychic**

**Description: Metang is a magnetic Anima. Its nervous system is comprised of specialized magnetic material in its arms, each of which holds an individual brain that multiplies each other's power. It can fly over 100 kilometers per hour and is incredibly resistant to all forms of damage. If it manages to grip its claws onto something, the chances of it letting go are slim.**

**Evolves from: Beldum **

**Evolves into: Metagross**

* * *

**Vulpix**

**Category: Fox Anima**

**Abilities: Flash Fire, Drought**

**Type: Fire**

**Description: The elegant Vulpix is a fox Anima. When it is born, it has only one white tail. As it grows, the number of tails multiplies into six, turning red and curling beautifully. Inside a Vulpix's body is an eternal flame, from which all its power originates. It can spew flames that resemble long-passed spirits, with some even mistaking them for ghosts.**

**Evolves into: Ninetails**

* * *

**Le gasp! A character from Pokemon - in _Harry Potter_?! Inconceivable!**

**If you don't remember who N is/never played Pokemon Black/White and/or B2W2, feel free to take some time to refresh. I do hope I have something resembling his canon personality.**

**Other than that, we have some new Anima 'discovered'. Farran is a Metang, while Ginny is a Vulpix. Congratulations to RegalEagIe and Estrela Polar for their accurate guesses to what Ginny is (though, to be fair, I don't think there is any other Pokemon imaginable that would fit the fiery Ginny quite like it). **

**Quick question, by the way, to Estrela Polar - what exactly did you mean when you said 'Mewth'? It looks like Meowth, which I can't see Farran as, or Mewtwo, which I can _definitely _see Farran as, given his frostiness and belligerence.**

**As for Neville, you'll have to wait to see what he is. He's much more reserved and cautious, compared to the others - at this point, he's the timid buttmonkey of Gryffindor. It'll take some time for him to get to the point of accepting Anima.**

**There is also something I have to say - some kind reviewers have informed me that, since there are things such as muggleborn Slytherins ('Vernon Dudley', remember?), the Hat wouldn't reject someone from Slytherin based purely of blood purity. While I could see the Hat grudgingly admitting half-bloods even when taking in blood purity into consideration, as they are, at the very least, of wizarding descent, 'Vernon Dudley' was the final nail in the coffin. **

**Thank you to unnamed guest and Pecan Crisp for their aid - they clearly know more about the books than I do. Though, it won't change anything in the fic - we can just say that the Hat decided Slytherin wasn't the best place for Farran.**

**Other than that, we have Alchemy!Ron - among others, of course. **

**One final note - within a few weeks, my next semester of college will start. The chapters will be probably be coming in even slower, so I thank you for your patience.**

**If you enjoyed the chapter, don't forget to leave a follow and/or favorite, and feel free to drop a review to tell me the problems and/or praises of the chapter.**

**As always, thanks!**


	6. Altering the Boggart

"Magic," Dumbledore wrote on the board, conjuring a line of chalk to trace his wand motions. "Is one of the more difficult entities in the world to understand. No wizard has come close to understanding it, for no one has seen it in its flesh. Most of the truth we find about magic and its principles is through trial-and-error. Magic is too incomprehensible for us to figure out otherwise."

"However, there is one branch of magic that is an exception, class. That, of course, is Alchemy."

Dumbledore started tracing symbol after symbol on the wall - a triangle, an upside-down triangle, two triangles with horizontal lines through them, what looked like a crescent moon, and on and on. Soon enough, the board was covered by the symbols.

"These are alchemical symbols and are the base upon which alchemical reactions are formed. Without these symbols and magic, the principles and abilities of Alchemy would be completely lost to us."

Dumbledore then turned to the class. "To the uninitiated and untaught such as yourselves, these symbols may look like nothing more than simple doodle one would make on their parchment, and their form seems arbitrary and random."

"Quite simply, though, they aren't. There is a process by which these symbols were devised, and by which more symbols can be devised - ones by which you wouldn't need to find through dangerous and life-risking trial and error, like with other branches of magic. It is my these methods that this particular symbol was devised."

Dumbledore illustrated a picture of a strange symbol - a circle inside a square inside a triangle inside another circle.

"This is the symbol of the Philosopher's Stone. The current magnum opus of all Alchemy. Does anyone here know of the Stone's properties?"

Several hands were raised into the air.

"Miss Granger, if you would."

"The Philosopher's Stone," Hermione went on, sitting next to Ron, "is a stone which has the properties to turn any base metal into gold and transform any liquid into the Elixir of Life."

"Correct - and what, exactly, is the Elixir of Life?"

"The Elixir of Life, Professor," Hermione explained. "Can extend the life of all those who drink it - though it doesn't provide true immortality."

Quirrell was a testament to that.

"Excellent answer, Ms. Granger. Fifteen points to Gryffindor."

Dumbledore continued the lecture, and Ron (for some strange reason) managed to pay attention to most of it. From what Dumbledore was saying, there would be a lot of maths (which made Hermione's eyes light up) and not too much magic… at least, for the first few weeks. Then, once they learned all of the basic 'calculations', they would be able to start the first Alchemical transmutations.

Honestly, it was all rather interesting, and that was the first time Ron could say that about anything he learned at Hogwarts. He was more than used to Charms and Transfiguration thanks to Mum at home, and Snape made Potions a nightmare simply by existing. Astronomy was just a bunch of star-gazing, and the less said about History of Magic, the better.

Oh, Ron wasn't going to bother taking extensive notes or anything that hard - Hermione already had filled in three pages when he wasn't looking. But they _were_ thicker than they were for any of his other classes.

If Dumbledore kept this up, Ron would be doubly glad he left Divination for this.

Too bad Harry couldn't come, though. All three of them had signed up for the class when Professor McGonagall had posted it on the common room bulletin board, but only he and Hermione were accepted.

Dumbledore had already put Ron's name down (which gave Ron a funny tingle in his heart), and Professor McGonagall loved Hermione's work ethic. They were passed through without too many problems.

Harry, on the other hand, didn't have a simple pass-me-through as Ron did, or glowing grades like Hermione did. In the end, his schedule wasn't changed, and he still had to go to Divination. Harry was sulking for the longest time after that, too.

Ron still couldn't help but wonder exactly _how_ Hermione was coming to this class as well as all her other classes. Right now, she was supposed to be in Divination, as well as the Study of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy (she dropped Muggle Studies after the first week so that she would have enough time for Alchemy, Professor McGonagall's instructions) - was she skiving? Still, it was none of his business to ask how she was managing all of his classes - he could tell that Hermione wouldn't want to tell.

Hermione offered to tutor Harry in Alchemy once they had found out that he was rejected from the course - though Harry declined, saying that he would better spend the time practicing for Quidditch (which was _obvious_).

Other than Ron and Hermione, none of the other Gryffindors had been accepted - Gryffindors that weren't Hermione rarely had spectacular grades, and while Ron didn't know that much about Lavender and Parvati, he knew that, as reliable as Seamus and Dean could be, they didn't have the 'E's and the 'O's for Professor McGonagall's to decide they would be worthwhile Alchemy students.

And the less said about Neville's grades, the better.

Speaking about Neville, Ron hadn't had a chance to corner him yet and make sure he knew bloody damn well not to talk about Anima. Neville would run from him, squeaking, every time he tried.

Dean and Seamus were curious but laughed it off. Harry and Hermione, though, were much more disapproving.

"You have to let Neville come to you, Ron," Hermione explained, after pulling him aside forcefully when he was chasing after Neville on Tuesday. "He's probably still afraid of Anima, and I don't blame him. He's going to calm down soon, and then you can tell him how you want to keep this a secret, Ron."

Ron snorted. "Neville isn't going to calm down anytime soon, Hermione. With the way he was acting, you would think the Basilisk was still hanging around."

Hermione frowned, then sighed. "I still don't understand why you're so insistent on this secrecy. You told us, and when the three of them asked, you told them-"

"Hermione, we searched for the Stone and the Basilisk together. We made Polyjuice in the bathroom-"

"_I_ made Polyjuice in the bathroom."

"That's not the point. What kind of a Gryffindor would I be if I didn't tell you two about the amulet?"

"Okay, and what about Farran, Ginny, and Neville?"

"They saw me kill the Dementor on the train, as clear as day. I don't think any of them would be able to forget it, either. I was forced to tell them, Hermione."

Hermione sniffed. "That doesn't explain why you want to keep this a secret this badly, Ron. Professor McGonagall is an Animagus - she could probably tell us loads about the Anima transformation."

Ron shook his head. "Nope, no way, no chance," he denied repeatedly.

Hermione groaned, exasperated. "Fine, Ron! Keep it a secret, for all I care!" Hermione stomped off in a huff.

Ron had turned to Harry at that point. "What's her problem?" Harry, as usual, said nothing of value and had just stared at the two of them.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno," he murmured. "But you have to admit, it's a little weird. You're the never this protective or secretive otherwise." Harry's eyes sharpened. "You don't think this is like the diary, do you?"

Ron vehemently shook his head. "As if! This is all me, or the Growlithe in me, or something like that! The amulet isn't manipulating me, Harry!"

Harry just stared at Ron, his gaze intense. Ron shuffled away at that point.

At that point, Ron decided to heed Hermione's advice and just wait for a good chance to talk to Neville. Unfortunately, one hadn't arrived yet. He thought he had one at Professor Lupin's first class when they were learning about Boggarts, but Neville skirted out of the way before he could ask it.

Neville's boggart wasn't too flattering. Neville _said_ that it would be Snape - and given how much of a git he was, Ron didn't doubt it.

But Snape didn't have a shock of red hair, neither did he have fire trailing from the corners of his mouth.

The _really_ worrying thing was what the Boggart said.

"Remember, Neville… if I find out…" the Boggart released a chilling laugh, one that raised the hairs on Ron's head as well. "You'll pay!"

"_R-Riddikulus_!" Neville screamed, which cause the Boggart to cough up feathers. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the Boggart wouldn't be able to talk anymore.

Then the Boggart caught on fire, and it started screaming.

"Merlin's beard!" Professor Lupin swore, before waving his wand. The Boggart flew back into the wardrobe, which started smoking. Professor Lupin conjured a large mass of water, which he let splash onto the wardrobe. Soon, the wardrobe was only steaming, though still intact.

Professor Lupin turned to the rest of the class, face slightly haggard. "Class, I must apologize, but we won't be able to practice on the Boggart for the rest of this class - those burns didn't look particularly safe, and I'm not willing to inspect it with the chance of all of you falling into danger."

Silence came at this announcement.

"If we're lucky, we'll be able to get some help from Hagrid so that we can nurse the Boggart back to health. We'll try again next week." Professor Lupin waved his wand again, and the door opened. "For now, let's get to class and discuss theory."

There was finally a large amount of groaning at this, and Ron breathed a sigh of relief. He now had a week to get to Neville and make sure that Neville wasn't afraid of him anymore and that Neville wouldn't tell on him.

Unfortunately, while he was much more motivated now to find and 'help' Neville, he still couldn't find the right opportunity. He couldn't even barge in like he always did - subtlety was the name of the game when it came to keeping a secret.

Neville didn't make it easy, either. The incident with the Boggart seemed to have tripled his fears of Ron. What's more, people were mocking Neville even more than usual, given that his 'ineptitude' caused the Boggart to catch on fire.

Snape delighted in this the most, taking points off Neville for every little thing (even more than usual - he always had one eye on Neville, trying to catch his mistakes).

Ron never had the chance to talk to Neville in private - people were always watching, and if they weren't, Neville would just run away or make sure they were.

"It's bloody infuriating, Hermione," Ron found himself saying as the two of them packed their bags. "I can't catch him - Neville's more slippery than a Slytherin!"

"Maybe you shouldn't be trying so hard, Ron," Hermione sighed as she packed her bags, repeating we she had said earlier. "You're probably scaring him even more just trying to catch him like this."

"But there's no other way!" Ron insisted. "You know how Neville is - if he doesn't _have_ to face a problem, he won't! He'll never meet me if Gryffindor doesn't suffer because of it - and even that's up for debate."

"You want to meet with _Longbottom_, Weasley?" The familiar drawling voice echoed behind them, as Ron grit his teeth. "Are you impressed by him? Do you think that you learn something if you talk to him?" Malfoy's eyes lit up with malevolent glee. "Did you think he blew up the Boggart on _purpose_?!"

"Shut it, Malfoy, or I'll give you more injuries to worry about."

Malfoy had returned to classes the same day of the Boggart incident, coming in Potions and belting off rude and cryptic things to Harry and Ron, talking about Black and revenge or whatever. Ron wished he would have taken longer.

And, of _course_, Snape decided that Malfoy was bright enough to take Alchemy - as if!

Before Malfoy could say anything else, with his smug, smarmy grin on full display, Ron walked out of the classroom, Hermione walking closely behind.

"You know, Ron, that was rather mature-"

"Hermione, I just didn't want to see that git's face anymore," Ron tersely explained, marching through the corridors. "If Profesor Dumbledore wasn't there, I'd sock him in the face."

Hermione's approvals died on her lips, as she sighed. "You're insufferable, Ron. Let's meet up with Harry at Transfiguration."

* * *

Ron steamed in his bed as Harry worked on his Divination homework in the common room.

Dumbledore had just given them some basic symbols to memorize, like the elemental triangles and other of the more famous ones. They weren't particularly difficult or anything - the hardest by far was the Philosopher's Stone, which only took a few tries for him to memorize by heart.

So, while Harry worked on an essay describing the process and history of tea-leaf reading or whatever it was called, Ron had nothing to do. He'd usually play some chess or Gobstones instead, but all he could do was simmer as he laid down.

A few beds away, Neville struggled through rearranging his trunk, not having properly packed it when going to Hogwarts. This had happened during the first few weeks of their first-and-second years - when they were still settling in.

You would think that he would learn to pack properly, eventually.

Ron was stewing on his bed because he had yet to find a good opportunity to talk to Neville. This would be a good chance, since everyone else was busy in the common room - if not for the fact that the moment he stepped out, Neville would immediately bolt.

He wouldn't be able to stop him - Neville was surprisingly fast when he thought he was running for his life. And if he tried to pursue as a Growlithe, he'd never be able to convince Neville - not to mention that if anyone saw him, the secret would go up in smoke.

He would be able to spell the doors shut if he was fast enough, and could maybe disarm Neville - but that would just make Neville afraid of him even more.

How do you get someone to talk to you when they can barely stand to be in the same room as you?

So Ron was stuck on his bed, trying to figure out a way to stop Neville from running away from him at sight.

Eventually, he just sighed. This wasn't chess - he'd never be able to figure things out just by waiting and thinking a lot. And he was _tired_ of the game the two of them were playing.

Ron pulled back the curtains. "Hullo, Neville."

Neville made a squeaking or meeping sound, as if he was a mouse being trodden upon, and slowly turned his head to see Ron on his bed.

"R-R-Ron!" Neville's hand crept toward his back pocket, before falling away. Ron frowned as Neville instead started looking toward the doors as if to see how fast he could run for it.

Then Ron sighed and did something that would be considered very, very stupid to most wizards.

He threw his wand at Neville.

Neville flinched as the wand clattered against his forehead.

"That's for making me go through all this trouble, prat," Ron flippantly remarked as he stretched a little next to his bed. "You know how hard it is to talk to you alone nowadays, Neville?"

Neville looked at him in confusion. That was better than fear, probably, so maybe Ron was on the right track?

Neville slowly picked up the wand, and, ever so slowly, pocketed it, before turning his wand onto Ron, shaking like a leaf.

Fire leaped into Ron's throat before he forced it down.

"Are you going to attack me, Neville?" Ron asked, eyes fixed firmly on Neville's wand. "Going to use a Leg-Locker Curse?"

Neville's wand just kept shaking.

"Fine. Do it." Ron spread his arms wide, though he struggled to keep his throat from accidentally spilling fire. Neville's threatening stance was cracking down on his temperament. "Do what you need to, so you don't feel afraid anymore."

"A-Afraid?" Neville whispered, tightening his grip.

"The Boggart - we both know it was me, Neville. If you need to attack me to turn your Boggart into only being Snape, then fine - attack me. I've had worse." The chess pieces were many times more dangerous than Neville could ever be.

Neville tried to say something, his lips making the shapes of words. Then, finally, he ground a word out.

"Why?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Why what?"

"Why… why do all this?!" Neville finally screamed, making Ron wince. Hopefully, no one downstairs would hear that. "You've been chasing me for the past week - why?!"

"Because I don't want any more people to know about Anima, Neville," Ron slowly explained, to make sure Neville understood. "You knew about Anima. You could tell other wizards the secret." A dark thought occurred to Ron - was he already too late? "Did you already tell anyone?"

Neville shook his head. "No," he murmured. "Why does it have to be a secret, though?"

That was a good question - and one that Harry and Hermoine kept asking him, annoyed at his constant need for secrecy. Ron couldn't answer the question - it just automatically made sense to him, like when he was thirsty and knew he needed water.

It just was something that not too many people should know.

"I'm not sure," Ron evaded. "But I don't think someone like Snape should have access to his Anima, whatever it is."

Neville grimaced. Then…

"What's it like to have an Anima?"

Ron scratched his head. "What do you mean?"

"You can breathe fire, right? And you have a powerful nose. Harry and Hermione probably have strong powers as well, right?"

"Er… yeah, I think so. Hermione's probably loads stronger than me."

"Oh… so there are even bad Anima, then?" Neville looked rather forlorn.

At that point, Ron knew what had to be done. He slung the amulet from his neck and tossed it to a surprised Neville.

"The incantation in Excitare Anima. Nothing to with your wand, just say it."

"Wh-what are you saying?"

"You already knew about Anima and all - and you look like you want to turn into one." Ron looked Neville square in the eye. "As much as you usually don't act like one, you're a Gryffindor - and that means you take opportunities when they come. Don't pass this up, Neville."

This wasn't just an opportunity for Neville, but Ron too. If Neville got attached to his Anima form, whatever it was, then he wouldn't be as afraid of Ron. He wouldn't want to get in trouble for having an Anima form either (Ron didn't know if it was illegal or anything).

Neville gulped, as he looked at the amulet.

"Wh-what was that incantation?"

"Excitare Anima," Ron repeated firmly.

"Exci… Excitaro-" Neville stumbled over himself, before stopping. "Will this… hurt?"

"No, it's painless," Ron lied, turning into a Growlithe and back again. "I didn't feel any pain."

Neville gaped. "You - you don't need the amulet to turn?!"

Ron nodded. "You only need the amulet once - then you can turn back and forth whenever you want."

Neville nodded, steeling his face. "Alright. I… I don't like this whole Anima thing… but I'm willing to give it a try." His breathing slowed down a little. "Here goes. E-excitare Anima!"

There was a bright flash of light, as Neville was cocooned in light. Ron waited breathlessly as a small wind picked up in the room, swirling a little dirt and dust around.

The light started shrinking lowly, and Ron could see a small, animal-like form inside. It was small, only a foot tall in its entirety, with a cream ruff around its neck.

"Yip!" Neville's dog-like anima went, falling over itself.

"Okay, okay, Neville?" Ron could barely hold in his laughter. "Just… when you want to turn back into a human, imagine yourself as a human, okay?"

Neville's Anima form stood still for very, very long as if concentrating. Then it slumped to the floor, defeated.

"Neville? Can you…" Oh, Merlin's _balls_. Neville wasn't able to turn back. This was _bad_. "Neville, it's okay, just-"

At that point, Neville started to panic, running around the dormitory haphazardly. Ron tried chasing after him, but he was too slow.

He reached for his wand - then, as he rummaged around in his pocket he remembered. _Neville_ had his wand, which meant his wand was wherever their robes went whenever they transformed.

Ron cursed to himself, before turning into a Growlithe. If nothing else, he would be able to navigate at the same speed as Neville at this form. He had more experience, too - Neville was tripping over himself as he tried to acclimatize to his new form.

Unfortunately, Ron wasn't particularly good at chasing things in this form yet. He could run and turn easily enough, but he wasn't good enough to chase a moving object.

So he bumped into different items of furniture as he chased Neville. What's worse was that Neville was slowly getting better as he ran and that Ron was losing ground.

As Ron bumped into the same nightstand for the third time, he cursed. "Merlin's beard!"

"I'm trapped! I'm trapped!" Neville wailed in response.

"You're not trapped, Neville!" Ron countered, a bit of fire trailing from the corners of his mouth as a result. This, though, seemed to triple Neville's nerves, and he continued running around aimlessly.

Ron was hearing footsteps - they hadn't been the quietest of Anima as of then. Ron had to figure something out, and fast.

"Neville, Snape's climbing up the tower!" Ron lied quickly, not sure what he was doing. What did _Snape_ have to do at a time like this? What was he thinking?

It _worked_, though - Neville froze in place, eyes darting around the room as if looking for a place to hide. In a giant leap, he snuck his way under his bed and out of sight.

As the door was opening, Ron changed back into his human form. "Hey, er… Dean." He waved at his dorm mate.

Dean sighed. "Ron, could you keep it down, please? Seamus and I are playing cards, and we'd _really_ like to concentrate, okay?"

Ron nodded. "Got it - I'll try to keep it down. Now _go_!" Ron pushed Dean back through the door, much to his protests, and locked the door. It wouldn't do much, considering _Alohomora_ \- but it was the message that went through that counted.

He turned back to where Neville had hidden. "Come out, Neville. It's safe… for now."

Neville's small dog anima (or was it a cat? Or maybe a fox?) crawled out from underneath his bed. In a quick motion, Ron scooped him up by his ruff.

As Neville struggled, Ron spoke to him. "Alright, Neville, calm down," Ron tried to soothe. "I'll transform so we can talk to each other, okay?"

Which was rather weird - Anima sounded like animals to humans, but they sounded normal when heard by other Anima.

Ron transformed and faced Neville, who was trembling on his bed. "Okay, Neville-"

"Turn me back!" Neville wailed, tears threatening to escape his eyes. "I don't want to be like this anymore! I hate it! I hate it so much!"

"Look, just… just calm down, Neville." Ron tried to reason. "Just-"

"Get me out of this!" Neville continued to wail.

Ron gritted his teeth, and another small trail of fire leaked from his lips. Neville meeped, and went silent.

"Okay, _Neville_?" Ron's patience had run out. "If you want to have _any_ chance of going back to normal, you have to listen to me."

Neville just continued staring at him frightfully.

"Neville, I need you to remember what you were doing an hour ago. What were you doing before we had this conversation?" Hopefully, by dredging up Neville's old memories, he would be able to get Neville to transform.

Neville closed his eyes. "I was… I was…" Panicked eyes shot open. "I don't remember!"

Ron groaned.

"Look, Neville, that's the only way. Keep trying, and I'm sure you'll get it," Ron said tonelessly.

"This was such an awful, awful idea…" Neville moaned.

"Less griping, more remembering."

Ron and Neville sat there for a while. Now and again, Neville would look to have found it, and Ron would wait with bated breath - but then Neville's face would turn crestfallen, and Ron would have to resolve himself for more patience.

After ten minutes or so, Neville just looked pathetic.

"I… I'm going to be trapped like this forever, aren't I?" Neville gulped. "Just this weird… dog thing. Forever"

"Neville, you're not going to be trapped," Ron repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. "You're stronger than that. You'll be able to break through to your normal self soon enough"

"No - no, I'm not." Neville asserted, looking miserable. "Why did I think this was going to be any different. I _knew_ this was a bad idea, but - but I couldn't help myself! I'm so _stupid!_"

Ron sighed. "No, Neville, you're not stupid. Or, at least, you're not any more stupid than I was when I first used the amulet."

"You - you had no choice!" Neville countered. "It was either the amulet or starving to death!"

"I wasn't sure," Ron hedged. "Maybe Bill or Dad or whoever would have been able to find me. I don't know. I know that the risk was worth it, though."

Neville just sniffled.

"Neville, you just showed right now that you're a real Gryffindor. You're unafraid to take risks, to do something dangerous. Remember our first year, Neville? The feast?"

"Y-yeah?" Neville closed his eyes. "Everyone… everyone was so proud of me. When Gran heard that I won Gryffindor the cup… you should have seen her, Ron, she was ecstatic… but… but that won't happen again."

Ron remained silent.

"That was the last brave thing I did, Ron… and… and it was the only brave thing I've done. Using the amulet was just me being stupid, Ron. It wasn't bravery at all."

"No, Neville. It can still be bravery," Ron promised. "You just have to turn back."

"But I can't!" Neville protested. "I've tried - and there's something stopping me!"

"That's yourself," Ron half-lied (because it might just be Neville's lack of any talent at work again). "You're strong, Neville, and you can do great things if you just believe in yourself."

(Ron didn't know how many cliches he was spouting at this point, so he felt very, very intelligent and smart at this.)

Neville sighed. "I… you're wrong, Ron. I won't be able to do it, even if I try to believe in myself." That was said with a note of finality.

But Ron wasn't done yet - not even close.

"Neville, you're not very talented," Ron started, agreeing with Neville's current sentiments about himself. "Except for Herbology, you're barely passing our classes. Sometimes, I wonder if you'll be able to become wizards with the rest of us."

A small, depressed tear fell out of Neville's eye.

"But then I remember that feast, and that night when you tried to stop us. Even with everything against you - even against _Hermione_ \- you stood strong. You didn't believe in yourself, but you went on to win us enough points to win the cup. You succeeded. That's the Neville I believe in."

"B-But-"

"Neville, I remember that feast. You remember it too, don't you? The cheers, the shouts, everyone celebrating and congratulating you."

"Yeah, I… I remember."

"Just close your eyes and think about it. Now, tell me, Neville - does that Neville believe in himself? Does that Neville have a future? Is that Neville brave?"

"Yes… yeah, that Neville is brave. But I'm not that…" Neville had opened his eyes, ready to continue protesting - except that it was Anima eyes that he was opening, but human eyes.

Ron transformed back as well, offering a wry smile. "Well, Neville? You weren't trapped forever, weren't you?"

Neville just gripped his sheets tighter as Ron jumped off the bed, heading down into the common room. He knew that he should say something else to Neville, to do what he wanted to in the beginning, to make sure Neville wouldn't squeal on him.

Now, though… well, for some reason, Ron wasn't worried anymore.

* * *

It had been a week since the incident with Neville's boggart. Since no professor or prefect had come to talk to him about any Anima-related business, Ron assumed that Neville hadn't told on him yet.

Neville, meanwhile, had become much more withdrawn and contemplative than he usually had. Hermione and Harry kept on shooting Ron looks when this happened, and at one point confronted him about it.

Ron had told them about what happened in the dorm, and the protests were soon withdrawn. Hermione didn't exactly approve of the way he went about with trying to deal with Neville, but Ron knew was that Neville probably wasn't going to tell on them any time soon. That was the important result.

Harry, meanwhile, just kept on working through everything like he usually did.

"You know, Ron," he finally said one day, as they were skiving off Charms homework playing Gobstones. "I've been working with my Shinx form, in my spare time."

Ron wiped away a little Gobstone fluid from his eyes. "Oh?" He spat some more gunk out. "What did you find out?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, once I accidentally transformed on my broom-"

"You what?!"

"Relax, Ron. I transformed back as soon as I could." Harry assured him. "The broom's charms kept me safe up there, too."

"Oh… well, that's good."

"Except I saw the Grim."

"The Grim?" Despite Ron knowing that Trelawney wasn't very reliable with her predictions, he still felt a pang of worry cross his heart. "You saw the Grim again?"

"And the Grim saw me." Harry reaffirmed. "Shinx's eyes could see far, and I saw the Grim's eyes locked on my Anima form."

"Well, it's just the Grim," Ron said. "I mean, that's bad for you, Harry, but at least the Grim won't be able to tattle on us."

Harry had been very cold to him at that point. Ron didn't know why.

Other than that small conversation, nothing serious of note happened between his incident in the dorm room and Thursday. Soon enough, Potions had ended (Neville, curiously, managed to not botch anything up too badly - no worse than his and Harry's were, at least. Snape still gave plenty of points off regardless), and it was time to go for their second attempt at the Boggart.

"Alright, class!" Lupin started again, cheery. "The Boggart's back to full health, so get ready to face your fears! First up, Dean!"

Dean slowly stepped up to the wardrobe, which burst open immediately. A severed hand crawled out, scuttling around."

"_Riddikulus!_" Dean cried, wand shaking slightly.

A large mousetrap appeared out of nowhere, capturing the hand and forcing it down.

"Excellent, Dean! Parvati, you're next!"

Parvati stepped forward, as the hand and mousetrap disappeared, to be replaced with a desiccated mummy, which raised its arms threateningly, a loud murmur flapping from its lips.

"_Riddikulus!_" She shouted, waving her wand wildly.

The mummy tripped and fell flat on its face. Parvati was soon replaced by Lavender, then by Seamus, and on and on. Each one managed to deal with the Boggart in their respective way.

Soon everyone had gone (even Hermione, whose Boggart was of a disapproving Professor McGonagall) except for Harry, Ron, and Neville. It was clear that Lupin didn't want Neville to face the Boggart again - or, at the very least, have him come up against the Boggart last. That meant Ron and Harry would have to face the Boggart first.

Now that he had some time to think about it, Ron realized he longer what his biggest fear was. It _used_ to be spiders - and, to be fair, it was still very high up there. But the amulet had awakened something else inside him… the Anima. He was rather protective of it - would the Boggart show him a version of himself without the amulet?

"Ron, you're up next!"

Well, he would soon find out.

Ron stepped forward, anxious to see what the Boggart would be. But before he could properly face it, he felt a pudgy hand push him aside, and a small "Sorry".

Neville walked forward and faced the Boggart, to everyone in the room's astonishment. "Neville, step back, it's not your turn," Lupin warned.

But Neville took a deep breath and walked forward, ignoring Lupin.

_Crack!_

The Boggart turned back into the Ron-Snape hybrid, which bared its teeth at Neville and growled, fire trailing from its lips.

"_Riddikulus!_" Neville's wand snapped forward, as the Boggart erupted in flames once more. Lupin cursed again and made to douse the Boggart again, but Neville wasn't finished.

"_Riddikulus!_" The Boggart's flame was snuffed, as the Snape-Ron hybrid fell to the ground twitching.

Then words started coming out of its mouth.

"You'll never win, Neville," it rasped. "You're not brave… you're weak… I will win…"

"_Riddikulus!_" Neville cried one last time, as the Boggart started choking on feathers once more. This time, though, it didn't manage to recover or burst into flames, and instead just kept on choking. Neville let out a small smile.

Lupin snapped out of his shock. "Excellent, Neville!" He praised, at which Neville flushed with pride. "Ron, you're up!"

Ron stepped forward, steeling himself for the crack that would herald his fear.

But there was no crack.

Rather, Neville's Boggart got up, before slowly transforming. The Snape-like features started melting away entirely, and in its place, mandibles and extra eyes started popping out. What's more, three pairs of spider legs popped out from the Boggarts hips.

Ron started sweating, his wand shaking. "_R-Riddiku_-"

Before Ron could say the incantation, though, the Boggart leaped forward. In a single bound, it pounced on Ron, before grabbing him and throwing him to the wall.

"Ron!" Harry and Hermione shouted, drawing their wands - though Lupin was faster.

"_Riddikulus_," Lupin cried, throwing the spell at the Boggart - who completely ignored it.

The Boggart scuttled up to a dazed Ron. "Time for your secret to be unveiled."

The Boggart-Ron plunged his hand deep inside Ron's robe and yanked out the amulet. "Excitare Anima!," it roared.

Ron's eyes widened, even in his dazed state.

There was an explosion of light and energy, as gale-force winds erupted from the Boggart, knocking Lupin back and ripping the wand from his hand. Many of Ron's classmates ducked for cover, though Harry, Hermione, and Neville still stood there.

Then there was laughter. Shrill and loud, it cut through Ron like a knife through butter, as he felt an intense fear rocket from within his soul.

The light faded away, to reveal an Anima - a floating decapitated head with a string of dark red pearls its neck. It surveyed them with bulbous yellow eyes.

Then it smiled.

"_DDDDDDDDDRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!_"

Ron fell, fear clamping hard on his soul. His breath started to come out in short bursts, s he struggled to point his wand at the strange Anima that was currently screaming at the top of its lungs.

Harry, Neville, and Hermione weren't doing much better. Neville had fallen to the floor as well and was trying to desperately get up. Hermione had fallen faint - and she wasn't alone in this regard. Several of their classmates were lying prone on the ground as well.

Harry and Lupin had managed to stay on their feet, though, and Lupin trained its wand on the thing.

"_Depulso_," Lupin cried, whipping his wand to the wardrobe. The Anima tumbled through the air and landed inside the wardrobe, which Lupin locked with a wave of his wand.

There was silence for a few seconds before Lupin let out a breath and turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, do you know-"

Lupin didn't get to finish, though, as that awful shriek assaulted their ears again. Lupin clamped down hard on his ears as the Anima phased through the sides of the wardrobe to face Lupin.

Then the shrieks died down, to be replaced with haunting laughter. It swooped and snickered at the wizards it played with, before escaping through one of the walls of the room, leaving the class behind.

"What did I unleash…?"

* * *

**Eevee**

**Category: Evolution Anima**

**Abilities: Run Away, Adaptability**

**Type: Normal**

**Description: Eevee is the Adaptive Pokemon. No matter what environment it finds itself in, it can change itself to best suit its surroundings and survive, its genetic code mutating to best help it survive in the various environments it falls into. Due to its adaptability, it has much potential in its innate variability. With many, many different evolutions, Eevee can survive however it wishes to.**

**Evolves into: Vaporeon or Jolteon or Flareon or Espeon or Umbreon or Glaceon or Leafeon or Sylveon or (if you wish for more, please use an additional command, Wielder)...**

* * *

**Misdreavus**

**Category: Screech Anima**

**Abilities: Levitate**

**Type: Ghost**

**Description: Misdreavus is the Fear Pokemon. Using the red spheres around its neck, it absorbs fear and turns it into nourishment. It loves instilling fright into those around it with tools such as tricks, screaming and shrieking, haunting laughter, and most of all, yanking and pulling on loose hair. It spends much of its free time practicing its scare routines.**

**Evolves into: Mismagius**

* * *

**Ron used Confuse Ray! It was super effective!**

**Sorry for the long wait between chapters. College is tedious and I'm finishing up a mammoth double-parter for my other fic on this site. Check it out if you want, though I'm not too confident in its quality. I'm trying to raise my writing speed, but it's a slow process.**

**As for everyone who reviewed, thank you. It always intrigues me how people view my fic - it's a joy to see that people enjoy it.**

**And yes, Neville is an Eevee - notably, not a Grass-type. When I was writing this, I looked at the Grass-type Pokemon currently released and figured that none of them encapsulated Neville well. And while Turtwig came close, as did Chespin and Ferroseed, I eventually figured that I might as well double down on Neville's self-perceived ordinary features and make him Eevee.**

**And yes, this means that everyone knows about Anima now, in some form or another. Remember, Ron - 'three can keep a secret if two of them are dead'.**

**If you enjoyed this chapter, feel free to fav, follow, and leave a review. I read them all, and all feedback is welcome.**

**Peace.**


	7. The Way to Occlumency

With the Anima around, Hogwarts was hardly the same place.

By the time Ron and everyone had managed to get out of the classroom, the Anima was already well on its rampage. It tore tapestries from the wall, flipped portraits upside down, switched the suit of armor's legs with its arms - and this was all only in the first hour.

Eventually, once Dumbledore had been notified of the 'incident' in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the Anima was found lurking around with Peeves.

At which point Hogwarts had to accept it permanently. Peeves was positively _smitten_ with the Anima, almost doting on it. Legend had it that Peeves had been pulling a prank on Professor McGonagall - Professor _McGonagall_ \- and found himself aided by the wily creature.

Within the hour, they had caused near irreparable damage to not only Professor McGonagall's office, but Binns, Pomfrey, and Sinistra's as well.

And once it was found out they were… _friends_… Dumbledore tried to exterminate it immediately, attempting to banish it much as Lupin did.

Not only did this go about as well as Lupin's attempt - being a complete failure - but Peeves, in a fit of rage, took revenge on Dumbledore, dropping Fawkes's droppings on his head in the middle of dinner the next day, chopping off the head of his gargoyles and sticking them into the mold-encrusted feet of the statues of armor, and throwing Dumbledore's unwrapped lemon candies or whatever those weird yellow balls were into the Great Lake.

And the Giant Squid sure took a liking to them.

Maybe it was that last thing, but Dumbledore declared to the rest of the school that attacking or otherwise provoking the new… 'thing' that had appeared on the grounds was grounds for detention and point-loss.

Peeves and the Anima celebrated this by dumping fifty cubic meters of manure on everyone's heads during lunchtime, laughing and snickering all the while.

Now that Peeves had a… 'friend'... his pranking attempts had multiplied a hundred-fold. Filch was going ballistic and kept on petitioning Dumbledore to remove them both. Dumbledore didn't do that, though - some other Headmaster had tried that in the past and was humiliated as a result. Peeves (and the creature, if it lived that long) were permanent fixtures of Hogwarts.

Lupin's first few classes after the Boggart incident had to do with protection against poltergeists, of which there were depressingly few. Poltergeists had surprisingly few weaknesses - they couldn't be harmed, didn't age, could break through most protections and curses, etc. The list of their strengths went on and on.

Really, the best defense against poltergeists was to become boring to them. Then they would go off and harass someone else, and you could continue with your day.

But with the creature's shrieks, it was impossible to keep calm and be boring. There was no defense against it - earmuffs didn't work, and neither did holding your hands to your head. All you _really_ had was your strength of will, and even that was sometimes up for debate.

So Lupin just taught them _Waddiwasi_ and various other spells like _Langlock_, so they could become a bother to Peeves, making him not want to bother them anymore. Teaching these spells had an unfortunate side-effect of increased pranks from another direction, once the second-year boys figured out you could use _Waddiwasi_ to throw boogers into people throats, which they then closed with _Langlock_.

Those spells eventually became the 'only use against Peeves and that weird floating head' spells - and they provided _some_ defense against the two malicious spirits. But, for the most part, Hogwarts had become a prankier place (Fred and George liked that part).

But things weren't as simple for Ron. Maybe his other classmates, in the heat of the moment, forgot that it was partially Ron's fault the Anima came alive. Maybe they thought it was already being dealt with. Who knows?

But Lupin kept on staring at Ron throughout the next set of classes - and the other teachers paid close attention to him as well. Ron was just waiting for the hammer to drop at some point or another.

Hermione routinely urged him to break the secret and just tell Professor McGonagall or Dumbledore - then _they'd_ solve everything, and Ron wouldn't have to worry anymore. But Ron was adamant - something deep within him told him that if the secret got too wide, it would be impossible to keep a secret.

Keeping the secret wasn't particularly easy nowadays with Fred and George snooping around everywhere, either. After Peeves finally had a partner, one that enjoyed the same pursuits he did, Peeves challenged Fred and George to a 'prank war'.

Three guesses as to what that was.

Suffice to say, Hogwarts suffered from at least one school-wide prank per day, and roughly ten to twenty or so individual pranks. Fred and George had 'risen to the occasion' and launched a full-scale offensive against Peeves and Phoebe (the ghostly Anima).

Within three days they managed to get access into the Slytherin's common room, and after nicking Harry's cloak - Ron had no idea when Fred and George learned about it - the Slytherins found themselves under constant warfare, since it was the one area where Peeves and Phoebe wouldn't attack, as the Bloody Baron forbade it.

Speaking of them nicking Harry's cloak, nearly everyone in Gryffindor found that Fred and George had access to pretty much everything they owned. They even managed to get past the girls' trick staircase.

And while Professor McGonagall had given them more detentions in one week than he, Harry, Neville, or Hermione were assigned per semester, Fred and George refused to falter.

At that point, Ron decided that it was best to keep the scroll with him at all times. They pranked him more than a few times - more than they did on any other person. He could hardly go a day without having to suffer some kind of mean-spirited prank from Fred and George - and there was no telling when they'd try to rummage through his stuff and find the scroll.

Getting a Howler from Mum and Dad about the scroll and its dangers would disintegrate the secret in its entirety.

Scabbers stayed near him as well. Ron didn't want him falling foul of some awful trick by the twins.

Ron waited for the next week or so, dreading the day when the hammer would drop and he would finally have to tell everything. He'd lie, of course, but the chances of it working were slim.

Then, one day, it happened.

"Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked in Alchemy, a week and a half after the second Boggart incident. "A word, if you would."

Ron gulped, before turning to Hermione. "Wish me luck."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You haven't missed any homework or anything, have you?" She hoisted up her bag. "I'll meet up with Harry and Neville in Transfiguration. See you then." With a jaunty walk, she headed out of the doors.

'Meet up'… according to both Harry and Neville, she never missed Divination, and they usually walked together to Transfiguration - except that Ron also walked with her to Transfiguration from Alchemy, at the same time.

When Ron asked Hermione about this, she clammed up and refused to say more. It was a strange puzzle, to be sure. Though it looked like Hermione was handling it well, so it wasn't Ron's business to interfere.

Ron walked up to Dumbledore. "Yes, Professor?"

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Glad to see you are in good health, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore locked the door to the room with a wave of his wand and conjured a small wooden chair for Ron to sit on, a magnificent chintz one for himself.

Ron sat on the small chair as Dumbledore pulled out those lemon candies. "Lemon drop, Mr. Weasley?"

"Er…" Ron wasn't the kind to say 'No' to sweets. "Alright."

Ron took one of the candies and attempted to chew on it. Then he stopped because it was as hard as one of Hagrid's rock cakes, and he'd very much like to keep his teeth.

As Ron started sucking on it, Dumbledore smiled. "Do you enjoy it, Mr. Weasley?"

"It's… alright?" It was no Pumpkin Pasty, but it did taste better than the lemon-flavored Bertie Botts Bean.

"Excellent." Dumbledore sighed. "It took me longer than I wished to replenish my supply - I'm rather fond of lemon drops, you see. Peeves wasn't very kind to my old supply, and while I'm glad Desmond - the Giant Squid - had enjoyed them, I really did need my candies back."

Ron just kept sucking on the lemon drop.

"After the appearance of… 'Phoebe', as Peeves calls her… I found myself curious. Hogwarts rarely sees additions to our family of ghosts, and 'Phoebe' is quite unlike any other ghost I have seen before. Remarkably like a dullahan, except that the head supports itself without the body.

"So, I decided to enquire as to where 'Phoebe' came from - and that led me to Professor Lupin."

Ron swallowed the lemon drop whole.

"Would you care to explain to me what happened in the classroom, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron knew that he had to lie, lie, lie. There was no other option - he could only hope that Lupin didn't tell Dumbledor…

On second thought, perhaps a revised version of the truth would work.

"I… stood in front of the Boggart, which turned into me, for some reason - except that it had big, hairy spider legs!" Ron gestured. "Then, before I knew it, the Boggart grabbed me and threw me against the wall, before grabbing me and saying something weird. Then it transformed - and that's all I know."

There, that should work to fool Dumbledore. Close enough to the truth to be verifiable, but not so close as to blow the secret.

Dumbledore started studying him, and Ron felt a small and strange headache ring through his head. He quickly shook his head to get rid of it, before paying attention to Dumbledore again.

Dumbledore clasped his hands. "I find myself curious… Mr. Weasley, could you please pull out that odd trinket from within your robes?"

Ron froze. "Wh-what trinket?" How did he find out about the amulet?!

"I believe you know which one I'm talking about, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore answered.

Ron slowly pulled out the amulet from within his robes, before laying it down in front of Dumbledore. Ron found himself wracked with fear - what would Dumbeldore do with the amulet?

"Don't worry, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore assured him, picking up the amulet with a sense of caution, before holding it up to his eye. "Oh!"

"It… it can sense magic," Ron explained. "Visualizes it - it looks like a large mass of green lines to the amulet."

Dumbledore nodded. "Fascinating. Many, many curious wizards would love an item like this - one that shows so much of what has been eclipsed from our eyes." He set it down. "Yet I imagine it hardly compares to its other ability, Mr. Weasley."

"What other ability?" Ron asked, dreading the answer.

"The Anima, of course."

Ron felt something in him wither and die. The secret was gone, free - Dumbledore would tell everyone, and he'd have to give it up, and-

"Mr. Weasley? Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, a small measure of concern entering his voice.

Ron shook his head. "Yes, Professor?" he asked faintly.

"Mr. Weasley, there is no need to worry," Dumbledore reassured him. "I too believe that something like this mustn't be shared with the more… unsavory wizards of Britain."

"You mean like Malfoy?"

"I wouldn't go that far - but there are certain others, yes, that shouldn't be given free access to such a powerful form," Dumbledore evaded. "I find that we wizards aren't any better off than Muggles are, even with access to magic and its wonderful creations."

Dumbledore sighed. "Power doesn't always lead to happiness, Mr. Weasley, and I struggle to see how something like this would aid us, rather than harm us."

All Ron cared about was that Dumbledore wasn't going to share the secret of Anima and the amulet, which made this exchange a victory in his book.

"Would you like to transform, Professor Dumbledore?" Ron offered - if anyone deserved it, the headmaster did. No one else understood his need for secrecy quite as well as Dumbledore did.

Dumbledore, though, shook his head. "I have no need for any such power that the amulet could provide me - though, I _am_ slightly curious as to what my Anima is. It _is_ different for each wizard, correct?"

Ron nodded, before pulling the amulet to his eye. In Dumbledore's place was a large, red bird, with a bright yellow crest and green-tipped wings, a tail of yellow feathers directly behind it. It studied Ron with an inscrutable gaze.

"It's… it's, uh…" Ron pulled out the scroll from his pocket and paid it open. "Let me find out its name." Ron then asked the scroll what Dumbledore's Anima was.

**Ho-Oh**

**Category: Rainbow Anima**

**Abilities: Pressure, Regenerator**

**Type: Fire, Flying**

**Description: Ho-Oh is the Resurrection Anima. Flying on rainbow-trailed wings, the ash it releases has the remarkable ability to bring back anyone it touches from the brink of death - or even death itself, if Ho-Oh so chooses. Ho-Oh enjoys the presence of those with pure hearts and travels the world to find and aid them. Those that see Ho-Oh are said to be blessed with eternal happiness.**

**No Evolutions**

Ron turned to Dumbledore, opening his mouth to explain what the scroll told him, only to be faced with Dumbledore's stony gaze.

"There is no need, Mr. Weasley, to tell me what you have found out," Dumbledore slowly explained, before sighing. "I… I do not believe I have to right to turn into my Anima. Not anymore, at the very least."

"P-Professor Dumbledore?"

"Mr. Weasley, I have kept you here for long enough. Make sure that you endeavor to keep the truth of the amulet as much of a secret as possible - it shouldn't be handed to those ill of heart. I will close lines of questioning from the various members of the faculty - it is your job to assuage the worries of the students."

Ron got up. "There's no need to worry, Professor Dumbledore," he promised. "I'll do my best to keep this a secret." Dumbledore nodded as Ron lifted his bag and started to walk out the door internally very, very relieved. The headache in the back of his head was gone as well.

"One last thing, Mr. Weasley." Perhaps he had thought too soon. Ron turned to Dumbledore again.

"Yes, Professor?"

"How do you think _I_ found out about the truth of the Anima?"

"Er… you figured out I was lying?" Ron had thought it was a plausible lie, but, of course, it hadn't stood up to Dumbledore's scrutiny.

"Not entirely. Think of a number from one to fifty, Mr. Weasley."

"Er… okay." Ron thought about it for a second, before settling on twenty-six. That strange headache from earlier returned. "Okay, now-"

"Is it twenty-six, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron's mouth gaped.

"Try again. Think of a letter, and I'll guess which one it is."

Ron, after another second of deliberation, decided on 'M'.

"Is it 'M', Mr. Weasley?"

"How are you-"

"One last time, Mr. Weasley. Think of a sentence - any sentence - and I'll try to guess what it is." Dumbledore was acting rather creepy right now, and the twinkle in his eyes was much more foreboding."

"You are thinking that I'm acting rather creepy right now and that the twinkle in my eyes - a bit of clever magic, by the way - is much more foreboding than it is usually. I must say, I don't mean to intimidate, Mr. Weasley."

Ron gulped. "How - how are you doing that?"

"An interesting branch of magic known as Legilimency, Mr. Weasley. With enough practice, anyone can look into your eyes and see your innermost thoughts, your most valuable secrets." Dumbledore sent Ron a pointed look at this.

Ron's mouth went dry.

"There _is_ a defense, however - Occlumency."

"I'll learn it as soon as possible, Professor," Ron promised. How many other wizards could pry his secrets from his head? How long until someone ripped the truth from his soul and told _everyone_?

Ron wouldn't be able to sleep well at night without 'Occlumency' anymore.

Dumbledore nodded. "See to it that you learn it, as well as anyone else that knows the secret." Dumbledore pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Particularly Mr. Potter."

Ron nodded, though he didn't particularly understand. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I won't forget it."

"See that you don't." Dumbledore opened the door. "Good day, Mr. Weasley."

And, as Ron left the room, he heard Dumbledore murmur one last thing, something that Ron knew he wasn't supposed to hear.

"... the power he knows not… perhaps… "

Ron left.

* * *

"Ron, how much longer until we find it?" Neville complained about the search for what felt like the twenty-ninth time.

Ron groaned as he searched through the bookshelves. "I don't know, Neville. Keep searching - we'll have to find a book on it eventually."

Ron had conscripted Hermione to learn Occlumency and teach them, but one look at her said that she probably wouldn't take it well. She was nearly tearing her hair out at the workload she had. All day, every day, she was in the common room studying for her electives - and Alchemy was one that she wasn't taking very well.

The difficulty of the course had slowly been increasing - after they had managed to memorize around fifty or so of the basic alchemical symbols, Dumbledore started having them memorize functional pairs of symbols - of which there were twenty-five hundred.

Suffice to say, it was not easy. A few students had already left the class, figuring it was too hard for them to handle. Ron didn't find it that much more difficult - after deciding to leave it to dumb luck, he found that he got the pairs right more than half the time, which was better than Hermione.

Hermione, as if to counter Ron's strange success, studied like a madwoman. Over half the time she was studying, the book she was holding was the one on Alchemy. She continuously pored over it to memorize the formulas.

Suffice to say, she snapped her book in his face and told him to find it out on his own - 'she had more important things to do than be your library assistant'. She then proceeded to start hexing him when he continued arguing the point.

So Ron, with the help of Harry and Neville, started searching around the library to find anything on Occlumency. Of course, Neville would never be able to replace Hermione in terms of researching, though it was clear he tried.

Harry had Quidditch practice, so he could only come and help them every so often. Most of the time, it was just him and Neville looking around.

Ron felt a sharp plain blossom on the top of his head, which was then repeated. A couple of books fell at his feet. Ron looked up.

Phoebe grinned back maliciously.

"Bugger off, would you?" Ron grumbled - though did nothing else. Phoebe loved her fights - and she seldom lost.

A couple of idiotic Slytherins thought that it would be smart to force Phoebe into their service, and so tried to capture her. So when it naturally went wrong, they immediately started blasting her with _Depulso_ and various other dueling spells.

When she just phased through them, they finally figured out that it probably wasn't that smart to mess with something that was on the same level as Peeves.

When other people found them, Phoebe had already dealt with them. Within minutes, they were sent to the hospital wing, reduced to gibbering messes. None of Madam Pomfrey's potions or magic would aid them, so they were sent to St. Mungos. They returned… a few weeks later, when whatever Phoebe did to them wore off.

In addition to Peeves, she had made friends with Moaning Myrtle. They loved screaming and crying together in the bathroom. Myrtle occasionally helped Phoebe and Peeves out with their pranks as a result.

Ron forced himself to stay calm and collected as Phoebe did her best to rattle him. She took a perverse joy in rising their emotions the normal way, as opposed to screaming at them. If you managed to prevent yourself from being too affected by her presence, she would just scream at you once, joyfully sip on the uncontrollable rising of fear, and then move onto another victim.

Sure enough, Phoebe left him alone after ten minutes or so, giving him a sharp shriek for good measure. Ron felt his heart pound in his chest, and Neville meep beside him, as Phoebe floated away.

"Arghh!" Ron and Neville heard a scream.

"Oi, mate, keep it down!" Ron shouted back. He saw Madame Pince give them all the stink eye.

"Oh, shut _up_, Ron," Ron recognized that caustic voice anywhere.

Farran was busy studying in the corner, three books surrounding him. This was where he came every day - Ron and Neville saw him constantly reading thick volumes every day, his eyes never straying from them.

Except for today. Farran was glaring at them with his usual intensity.

He held up a few rolls of parchment, upon which there were several blots of ink. "That damned ghost has been ruining my essays. Tell me, _why_ did you activate its Anima?"

Ron sat down at the table, Neville next to him. "It's not like I wanted to - it forced itself on me."

Farran scoffed. "Then why didn't you use a spell on it?"

"I'm sorry, _who_ was the one in the train you defended you all against the Dementor?!"

"A Growlithe - not you. You're a wizard, not a monster."

Ron's eyes bulged. "Are you - are you _serious_?!" Ron gripped the table, singeing it under his grasp.

"At least I worked better under pressure," Farran continued, books falling out of their bookshelves as he glared at Ron. "If I was able to transform into an Anima during that fight, I would have killed it in only half the time."

"Guy, please, now's not the time," Neville tried to calm them down.

Farran and Ron glared at him. "You stay out of this!"

Neville, though, wasn't looking at them anymore. Ron and Farran slowly turned their heads to see what he was looking at.

A maddened Madam Pince was looming over them, breathing heavily out her nostrils. She looked like she was on the precipice of killing them all herself.

"Leave," she said, brandishing her wand. "You've caused enough damage to the library to warrant twelve detentions."

"But Madam Pince-"

"LEAVE!" She bellowed. The three of them quickly found enough common sense to scurry out of the library with their tails between their legs.

After they were booted out of the library, Farran turned on Ron, raging. "Now look what you've done! I'll have to wait until tomorrow to use the library, and there are no good books in the Ravenclaw library!"

"Well, thanks to you, _we_ can't use it either!" Ron countered.

Farran scoffed. "Oh, and what were you going to use it for? 'Top Twenty Ways a Gryffindor Can Waste His Life'? Let me tell you, Ron, you don't need it - you're doing fine as is."

"Ron, stop!" Ron was in the middle of lunging at Farran and would have continued if Neville hadn't grabbed his arms and held him back.

"Let me go, Neville!" Ron bellowed. "I'm going to give this prat a piece of my mind!" Farran just smirked at him.

Bloody git should have been in Slytherin, where he belongs.

Farran sighed. "No, but seriously - what did you come into the library for?" Farran spun his wand on his finger as he waited for Ron and Neville to stop fighting.

Eventually, Ron stopped reaching for his wand every three seconds, which Neville took as a good sign. After letting Ron go, Neville turned to Farran. "Do you know if there are any books on Occlumency?"

"Neville!"

Neville turned to Ron. "He could help us - he looks like he knows his way around the library better than we do."

Farran drummed his fingers on his thighs. "Occlumency, Occlumency… never heard of it. What is it?"

"It's a skill we're trying to learn," Neville answered. "It has to do with protecting your mind."

"Protecting your mind from _what_?"

"Legilimency - wizards can use it to enter and mess with your mind."

Once Neville said this, a remarkable change overcame Farran. His face paled, as his hand started shaking wildly.

"Farran?" Neville asked.

"I'll find it," Farran replied, eyes shot wide-open. "I'll find the book on Occlumency - give me a week to hand it to you." Farran gathered his books. "I'll go look in the Ravenclaw library - it's better than just waiting around."

Farran started walking out of the corridor they were in. Then he turned to the two of them one last time.

"Thank you for bringing this issue to my attention - I'll give the book to you soon." Then he strode out of sight.

* * *

It took a couple of days for Farran to find it, soon enough he had. Ron and Neville found Farran hunched over a thick tome called '_Mental Defenses: Barriers, Occlumency, and More!_' during breakfast.

"You found it!" Ron gaped. He and Neville looked around for weeks but couldn't find anything, yet it only took Farran, a few days to find it.

Farran nodded but didn't turn his eyes away from the page. "I'll give it to you on Halloween - I'll be done with it by then." Farran waved them off. "Shoo, you're distracting me."

Ron and Neville walked back to where Harry and Hermione were sitting. Hermione was still glued to _Alchemy, Ancient Art, and Science_, so Harry was the one to greet them.

"How did it go?"

"He'll hand the book over to us at Halloween." A thought occurred to him. "That's the Hogsmeade Weekend! Did you get permission from McGonagall?" He and Harry had talked for a bit and decided to ask Professor McGonagall as to whether he could go regardless. He and Neville had been looking for books on Occlumency, so Ron didn't know whether he got permission.

Harry morosely shook his head. "No, she said that 'rules are rules' and that I have to stay behind."

Ron winced. "Ah… I could stay behind with you if you want?" Honeydukes and Zonkos were enticing, but he didn't have that much pocket change anyway - and he could get a headstart on reading the book on Occlumency with Harry.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, that'd be nice," he said, nodding.

So when Hogsmeade weekend rolled around, he and Harry stated behind while Hermione and Neville went to Hogsmeade.

"We'll get you guys plenty of sweets," Neville promised. Hermione absently nodded, her face buried in the book.

Soon Neville and Hermione were padding across the grounds. Ron and Harry waved them off, before going back inside the castle.

"What do you want to do, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Want to play Gobstones?"

So they walked up to the Gryffindor common room and set up a game of Gobstones.

As they played, Harry started chatting with him. "Say, Ron, what _is_ Occlumency anyway?"

Ron shrugged. "I'm not too sure. All Professor Dumbledore told me was that you can use it to defend against Legilimency."

"That's mind-reading, right?"

"Not exactly," Farran's voice rang from behind him.

The thick book an Occlumency dropped on his lap and caused the Gobstones to rupture and spurt sticky ink all over Ron's face.

"Oi, prat! Manners?!"

"Yeah, you need them," Farran smirked. "I've already read through it all. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Ron bit back several insults. "Thank you," he finally ground out. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Farran, deciding that he had spent enough time around them, walked away to another pile of books in his little corner of the common room.

Ron picked up the book, which had managed to avoid most of the ink splatter. Their robes, though, weren't spared the same fate, and the Gobstones would take a while to reform.

Harry stood up and brushed himself off. "Want to go to the library, Ron?"

Ron nodded. They put on another pair of robes, then started walking to the library. Once they arrived, they sat down and got to work, Harry on an essay and Ron on the book on Occlumency.

It took Ron about twenty minutes before he slammed his head on the table.

"It's impossible," he groaned. "How do you even _begin_ to understand this?"

The guide was nearly impossible to follow. Sometimes it talked about Occlumency. Other times it talked about the heart and followed some strange set of poetry.

Then there was that passage about the supposedly mythical existence of bananas…

"Mind if I take a look?" Harry asked, pushing aside his essay.

"Sure, go ahead." Ron pushed the book toward him.

Harry leafed through it, squinting. "Who _wrote_ this - Shakespeare?"

"Shakewho?"

"A Muggle poet and playwright," Harry absently answered, leafing through the book. "Yeah… 'Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble'... this is from… Macbeth, I think?"

"Mate, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm pretty sure this was written by a Muggleborn or half-blood," Harry said. "I don't think Purebloods know much about Shakespeare."

"Here's a better question - why was it in a book about Occlumency?" A thought occurred to him. "Did Farran give us the wrong book?"

Harry continued leafing through the book, squinting now and again. "This… is a section about Legilimency. I think." He finally said. "There are a lot of curses in here on how to break someone's mind."

"Okay, but why a _Muggle_ poet?"

Harry stopped on a certain page, then squinted. "'_What, you egg_?' What's that?"

A remarkable change started overcoming Ron. His arms started retreating into his robes, and so did his legs. Soon, his head started merging with his chest.

In no time at all, he was an egg.

"Ron? Ron, what's the matter with you?" Harry waved a hand over Ron's eyes.

'_I'm an _egg!_" _That's what Ron tried to say - but as he was an egg, Harry wasn't able to hear him.

"Did the spell do something to you?" Harry leafed through the book. "Countercurse, countercurse…"

"Don't bother - this looks weak enough." A voice echoed behind them. "_Finite Incantatem_."

Suddenly, Ron found himself back as a human again.

"Never again," he croaked. "Never use that spell again, Harry."

"What happened, Ron?" Harry scratched his head. "You were just sitting there with your eyes lolling around."

"That was a mental curse," the voice told them again. Ron turned to see Nathaniel Scamander - N - walking to the table. "What did the textbook you were reading say about it?"

Harry looked back at the book. Then he shoved it toward N. "Be my guest."

N took the book and started leafing through it, eventually finding the "What, you egg?" spell. "It's a little hard to read," N finally said. "But it looks like this is a hypnotic spell."

"A what?"

"Hypnotic spell - it temporarily changes the perspective of the person it's used on. It forced you to think you were an egg." N said, handing the book back. "What do you need this book for?"

"I'm trying to learn Occlumency - though, I don't think I'll get anything from this," Ron replied.

"Probably," N agreed. "From what I read, this book is very unformulaic - it meanders and wanders around." N checked the back of the book. "Yeah, just like I thought - the author is Mary Arden."

"Who?" Ron and Harry scratched their heads.

"Mary Arden, better known as Mary Shakespeare - William Shakespeare's mother." N tapped the book. "Shakespeare probably got inspiration from his mother's spells when writing Macbeth's witches - his mother was a witch herself."

"So?"

"This book has no publication date on it but considering the time she would have lived in, this book has to be from the late 16th century - over four hundred years old. Unless you have experience reading that kind of literature, it'll be nearly impossible to learn anything from it."

Ron groaned. "Great. _Farran_ probably knows exactly how to read it, since he's a know-it-all. Hermione can read it too, but she's so busy studying Alchemy that she can't spare any time."

N nodded. "Has she managed to understand why Salt and Iron react so badly?" N was in the Alchemy classes as well, though he hadn't spoken to Ron again after the first day of classes.

Ron shrugged. "I keep telling her it's because of their impurities clashing, but does she listen to me?" Ron raised his arms helplessly.

N, meanwhile, was writing something down on a piece of parchment. "... impurities… clashing…" He stuffed it into one of the robes' pockets. "Thanks, Ron."

Ron coughed. "Don't mention it," he said, flushing. An idea popped into Ron's mind at this point. "Hey, N, let's make a deal."

N perked up. "I'm listening," he said attentively.

"You need help with Alchemy, and I need help with Occlumency. Why don't we help each other?"

N tapped his quill on the table. "You're offering to tutor me in Alchemy in exchange for Occlumency lessons?"

Ron shrugged. "I just need someone to help me understand this book, but sure." He and N shook hands on it, sealing the deal.

N took the book. "I'll read up on it tonight, and we can get started tomorrow," he said. "I'll owl Grandma Tina for her book on Occlumency - _Protection Charm Your Mind: A Practical Guide to Counter Legilimensy_."

"Your grandmother has a book on Occlumency?"

N nodded. "Grandaunt Queenie was a Legilimens - Grandma got it to keep secrets."

Ron nodded. "Anything will help," he agreed.

N checked his watch. "It's getting close to the feast - you'd best get ready in your common rooms."

Ron nodded, and he could hear Harry next to him closing the textbook he had been writing the essay from. Harry had been writing his essay while the two of them were talking.

"Let's go, Ron," Harry said, walking out of the library. Ron made to follow him, but N grabbed his shoulders.

"Before you leave," he said. "Can you tell me why you need to learn Occlumency so badly?"

"It's none of your-"

"It's because of the amulet, isn't it?" N interrupted, stopping Ron cold. "You want to keep it a secret from Legilimens, right?"

"How did you…" Then Ron remembered. "You saw me use the amulet."

N nodded. "I had asked you to tell me if any other changes occur," he admonished. "I know I have done little to engender your trust, but please, if anything else occurs, such as the incident with the Misdreavus, let me know."

"Misdreavus?" Then Ron's eyes widened. "You mean-"

"Yes, Ron - Phoebe." N rapped his fingers on the library table. "If you want to know why I know what a Misdreavus is, or any other Pokemon, just let me know."

Ron scratched his head. "Pokemon?"

"Ah… I'll explain it in time, Ron." N packed up his bags. "See you soon."

And with that, N left the library.

* * *

Ron chewed on some Honeydukes sweets Neville and Hermione had bought for them as they were walking back from the feast. He wondered how Scabbers would find them - maybe he would feed a few of then to him once they returned to the common room. _He_ certainly enjoyed them.

The sweets were as good as he thought they would be, and they had a cloying yet wonderful scent to them - when Ron went to the Hogsmeade (Neville promised him in secret to stay back with Harry next time), he would have to find someplace to turn into a Growlithe. Then he could inhale and memorize the Honeydukes scent, so he would never, _ever_ forget it.

Hermione's mood had also been uplifted by Honeydukes - before she had been stressing out constantly and was jumpy. Now she had her head out of a book for a change and was actively participating in conversations.

"And the Shrieking Shack!" She gestured animatedly. "You should have seen the tears - and the glass! I never saw such an amazing breakage pattern!"

Neville rolled his eyes. "It was just an old house, Hermione." Hermione continued regardless, ignoring Neville's remarks.

Harry was listening attentively, gorging himself on sweets as well. A small wistful look appeared on his face as he listened to the wonders of Hogsmeade.

As they walked up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, they found a large commotion going on. As they pushed their way through, they found the entrance to the common room jammed.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" Ron asked, curious. For some strange reason, the portrait seemed to be closed.

"Let me through, please," Percy's haughty voice echoed, as he forced his way through the crowd. "What's the holdup here? You can't all have forgotten the password - excuse me, I'm Head Boy-

Ron rolled his eyes.

Then a deafening silence fell over the crowd as Percy gulped. "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore, quick!"

"What's going on?" Ginny and Farran had finally made their way up the stairs. Farran, whose eyes were buried in another book, accidentally bumped into one of the other Gryffindors.

Then they got a good look at the portrait hole.

Great big slash marks were on every portrait - not only the Fat Lady but all of her neighbors as well. All of the wizards and witches in the portraits had fled, leaving the Fat Lady to be on her lonesome. Blood - a disgusting shade of red - was spilled on the landing, splattering the walls and staining the landscape of the paintings crimson.

Dumbledore appeared on the scene, with Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape in tow.

"We need to find her," Dumbledore ordered immediately. "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"Good luck!"

Peeves and Phoebe floated over the heads of all the students and teachers, looking positively delighted at what was occurring.

"What do you mean, Peeves?"

"Ashamed, Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," he said happily. "Poor thing," he added unconvincingly. Phoebe cackled alongside him.

"Did she say who did it?" said Dumbledore quietly, looking Peeves directly in the eye.

"Oh, no, not at all. She _recognized _him, that's for sure… but once he didn't give the passwords, she gave him a biiiiiiiiigggg stink eye! Put him in a sour mood, that's for sure! Threw a bit of a tantrum!"

Then Peeves jutted a thumb at Phoebe. "And now _she_ \- this loverly little lass over here." Phoebe gave off a deranged smile. "She decided 'You know what? Let's make this more fun!'"

Peeves threw a bunch of ghostly confetti into the air. "And…. BOOM! Confuse Ray!"

"Peeves, tell us who the assailant was!" Snape ordered.

"And that maddened the madman madder than the madman had ever been maddened before! Threw a fit, hurt himself and made this beautiful artwork," Peeves gestured to the lines of blood on the walls. "Would have thrown himself off the stairs too, had he not hit his head. Ran away like a hamster in a cage!"

"Peeves, who was the assailant?!" Dumbledore ordered, pressed for time.

"Of course, most of it was his own fault, before the maddening - he's got a nasty temper, that Sirius Black."

* * *

"Can you _believe_ it, Daphne?" Pansy raged and raved close to him about some triviality as Draco desperately tried to concentrate on one of his essays. If he could, he would have left for the dorms - Nott was a know-it-all, but quiet, and Blaise was loud, but only when you purposefully irritated him.

But no - since he wanted _privacy_ during the Hogsmeade weekend, he told Crabbe and Goyle to do something else for a change, and they found it within themselves to buy _Dungbombs_ from Zonkos. Which they proceeded to drop and detonate.

Morons, the lot of them. Why did Father insist they go with him? He would have to make sure he kept a sharper eye on them.

Thankfully, Black attacked last night, so they didn't have to spend the night in the dormitory. Unfortunately, Black attacked last night, forcing the elves to clean up after his mess. Therefore, they couldn't clean after the idiots' mess.

"What do you think, Draco?" Pansy simpered. "How should Lord-"

"Pansy, I'll be leaving for the library," Draco got up, finishing the essay and brushing Pansy off. "Crabbe, Goyle, follow."

The two of them immediately got up from playing chess - a rather close game, only offset by the fact that Longbottom could have beaten the both of them with his arms tied behind his back - and that wasn't a compliment toward anyone.

Flanking him, the three of them left the Slytherin common room. It was at that point that Draco wondered what he was actually going to do. He had no desire to go to the library, having only used it as an excuse - Pansy hated anything that wasn't a tabloid.

And Slytherins don't _wander_, not like _Hufflepuffs_.

Draco quickly decided to go the Owlery. Perhaps he could write a quick letter to Father and see what his opinions on Black's attack would be. He would make an official statement to the _Daily Prophet_, but that was just for politics. What he would rant at Mother was often much different - and something as interesting as Black would pique his genuine interest.

Of course, he didn't actually _care_ what Father thought, and Father knew that, but Draco knew that his Father sometimes liked to just rant regardless.

Finishing the letter off with a flourish, he attached it to one of the more handsome owls, then sent it on its way and promptly forgot about it.

Now, what to do?

It was then that he spotted an owl flying off into the distance. Squinting, he found that it was getting closer and closer.

Within a minute, the owl - some brown owl he didn't recognize - dropped a letter into his hands, before flying into the rafters to roost.

A school owl, then.

He looked at the letter in his hand. No envelope, messy handwriting, uneven lines. The sender was probably in a rush as he wrote it. Large blocky letters and poor penmanship - the sender was probably not of noble blood.

At that point, he was tempted to just drop the letter entirely and forget about it entirely. Still, with nothing to do, he read the entire thing.

The contents made him raise his eyebrows. Instructions, concerning an ambush. As he read further and further on, a smile began to grow over his face. As he read the tiny post-script concerning the author's personal status, Draco began to contemplate.

The promise of power was enticing - if this letter was accurate and not duplicitous, and his intuition told him it wasn't, then he could gain more from this than he could lose. He could easily get Crabbe or Goyle to take the fall for him if he wanted, and if he got Professor Snape to watch (there was a chance he could convince him), he had a powerful safety net.

Malfoy resolved himself to take advantage of the opportunity and smiled.

"Let's see how this goes, Mr. Wormtail."

* * *

**Yeah, Malfoy doesn't 'quite' know what he's getting himself into. He's a bit uppity like that.**

**Again, sorry for the late update. Though this time it was less external responsibilities and more me being _way_ too preoccupied with my other story. It's of lower quality, too - I'm not sure it was a good idea to continue writing it. **

**Oh well.**

**Ol' Dumbles is a Ho-Oh. Who would have seen that coming (sarcasm). No, but seriously, I want to hear what you guys thought his Anima would be. Another one I was thinking of is Blaziken - the strong flaming chicken.**

**And if you want to, go ahead and search up Mary Arden - she's a real person (though she probably wasn't a witch in real life). I thought it would add a bit of flavor. **

**Obvious Fantastic Beasts references aside, what would you guys like to see in this fic? There's no concrete path forward yet, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to suit. Ron has a changing destiny ahead of him.**

**If you enjoyed this, feel free to fav, follow, or review. I always read the reviews - even the ones that make go 'What the f***?!' Though, I _do_ have to read them before making that judgment... either way, I'll read it!**

**Parallax, signing out.**


	8. Stolen Treasure

"On your guard, fair maidens and valiant knights!"

Ron, Neville, and Harry stared at the portrait for Gryffindor Tower. A bizarre knight on a fat pony stood in there, wobbling every few seconds. The knight in the portrait brandished his sword at them.

"Now, speak the password, or else flee, for the squires of Gryffindor will henceforth deal retribution!"

Ron scratched his head. "Er… it was… corpora…"

Hermione, who had now caught up to them, recited the password. "Cortazonia."

"Excellent, fair maiden!" The door to the portrait door swung open. "Onwards - and the new password is now 'Magnium'!"

"He's mental," Ron groaned, as they made their way inside. "Is that the second time he's changed the password today?!"

"Third - he changed it after breakfast and during the break," Harry informed him.

"How many hours do you think he'll keep the password? Five? Six?"

"I'm betting three. Neville?"

Neville considered the question. "Four," he finally offered. "I don't think Cadogan would wait much longer than that."

"Either way, it's much too short," Hermione stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "I've been too busy working on memorizing the passwords to make much headway on Alchemy."

"You could write them down - I do," Neville proposed.

Hermione shook her head. "That's too much of a security risk, Neville - what if someone saw you use the password and stole the parchment?"

"The parchment wouldn't be too useful for long, would it?" Ron said, settling down to a game of Gobstones with Neville.

Hermione considered it. "I suppose," she finally stated. "Perhaps I'll ask Cadogan to provide me the passwords for the next week - he plans them, after all."

She went over to her little corner and brought out her Alchemy textbooks, which she still struggled over day and night. Her other grades hadn't been affected (of course), but she still spent most of her time nowadays poring over Alchemy.

Hermione had finally met her match - something she wasn't innately talented in, like everything else. Something that she needed to work as hard as everyone else did to excel in.

Ron, in contrast, had found a budding talent. Oh, sure, he had to work hard, as hard as everyone else did in the class (meaning at least an hour a day practicing drawing the basic symbols over and over again and memorizing their purposes). But Alchemy simply came easily to him, and he was easily one of the top students in the class for his moderate efforts.

Oh, it felt _good_ to be talented in something, to be able to beat Hermione in something that wasn't wizard's chess.

Malfoy was still in the class, though - he hadn't given up yet, even with the gigantic workload they had, Malfoy was one of the eleven students who hadn't given up.

And, loathe as Ron was to admit it, Malfoy wasn't half-bad. Oh, Malfoy wasn't as good as _he_ was, that's for sure. But Ron was halfway-sure the git should have failed by now. He certainly shouldn't be tailing Hermione in the scores, who took Malfoy's success as a personal insult, even more than Ron's success, as Ron was tailed only by N and Hermione.

And Ron was pretty sure the main reason N was doing so well in the class was that Ron was tutoring him.

Speaking of N, he had already finished the Occlumency book Farran had found, and they had started going through the process of learning Occlumency with Neville and Harry(who only could join them sometimes, but still came now and again).

To be frank, Ron wasn't very good at it. He was better than Harry was (who only just managed to get the 'clear your mind' part down after a good two weeks), but he was nowhere as skilled as N, or even Neville, was.

N seemed to have a natural gift for the Occlumency. He raced through steps several times faster than Ron or Harry did. Ron had accused him of poorly judging his abilities - but when they had subjected N to the standard Legilimency spell _Legilimens_, they were completely rebuffed, even when they could use it on each other to moderate success.

Neville wasn't too bad either. He made progress faster than he or Harry did, and was usually a step or two ahead of them. Neville was already trying to 'compartmentalize' his mind, whereas Ron had only just managed to get a basic shield up.

That shield was immediately tested in Potions the day after he first formed it. While mixing a Wiggenweld Potion, Ron felt a presence brush up against his mind. Immediately, he tried to bring up his 'shields' - but then felt the presence simply push them away.

Ron grimaced, ignoring the potion entirely as he struggled to keep whoever was in his mind out. But it was to no avail - there was nothing Ron could do to stop them from searching around in his mind.

If he had compartmentalized his mind, he would know where the wizard was trying to attack - unfortunately, he didn't, so when the probe left, Ron was left wondering what exactly in his mind was touched.

"There's nothing wrong with it, as far as I can tell," N summarized after he used Legilimency on Ron a day after the incident. "The intruder probably just wanted to look around in your head and leave."

"Do you think they found out about the Anima, though?" Ron asked.

N shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with your mind, but there's nothing different either. I have no idea what was touched in your mind." N opened up the Occlumency book again. "For now, let's get back to working on Occlumency. There's no point in trying to figure out what was touched or wasn't touched - all that matters is that no one manages to get to the information again."

Ron nodded, before resuming the Occlumency lesson with double the usual intensity. He didn't particularly like learning it, but he was damned if he would let whoever peeked into his mind get into it again.

His shields weren't tested for the following few days - but then, in Potions a week later, Ron's shields were tested again. Ron dropped everything and began to concentrate on reinforcing his shields.

Then Ron and Harry, who was sitting next to him, heard a familiar cold drawl. "Mister Weasley, you have disappointed me yet again. Read the board for me, would you?"

"Which step, sir?" Ron ground out, desperately trying to multitask. Why did Snape have to pick _now_ of all times, when someone was attacking his mind?

"The one that you're on," Snape sneered. "Do I look like I have the time to listen to blather through the rest of the instructions?"

"Of course not, Professor." At this point, the other Gryffindors were looking at him strangely - this was a much more reserved response than he usually would give, which would consist of snide rebuttals and other such acidities.

And, to be honest, Ron would love to give Snape a piece of his mind if he could. Unfortunately, Occlumency didn't work like that - the more you expressed your emotions, the weaker the 'calm and stable' magic protecting your mind would be. And right now, protecting his mind was more important than provoking Snape.

"Are you too thick to even _read_, Weasley?"

Right, that.

"Step Twelve: Add three drops of lemonfish sem- sorry, serum."

"Correct - and you just added _two_ drops of lemonfish serum." Snape waved his wand and the potion inside the cauldron vanished. "Start again," he ordered. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for inattentiveness."

Ron grimaced, but got to work, silently cursing Snape out. Though, he quickly stopped thinking about Snape and started thinking about the intruder that had forced their way into Ron's mind.

It took the intruder a good minute to get past his shields this time, as opposed to a few seconds last time around. Hopefully, Ron would be able to hold them out for indefinitely next time around, as opposed to just delaying them for a little bit.

What's more, he could - somewhat - compartmentalize his mind, so he could tell the general area where the intruder was looking in - his knowledge of Occlumency.

"But why that?" Ron asked N during one of their tutoring sessions. "Why would they want to know about Occlumency - I'd be much more interested in Anim- sorry, _Pokemon_." N insisted they call it that for some reason, but never gave a reason to Ron as to _why_ exactly they should call it that.

N paused in the middle of drawing an alchemical diagram (it wasn't half bad either, though there were some spots Ron didn't feel were quite right - he'd get to them later on). "They probably already know about it."

An icy feeling gripped Ron's heart. "What - what do you mean?"

"This started happening once you became able to sense people in your mind, right?" Ron nodded. "Well, once I started practicing it myself, I started feeling that intruder in my mind as well - during Potions."

"During Potions-" Ron realized what N was getting at. "The intruder always attacks in Potions class!" He turned to Neville, who had been writing an essay during the tutoring session. "Neville, did you feel anyone attack your mind in Potions?"

Neville paused, his quill resting on the paper as he thought on it for a little bit.

"Once," he answered. "One day, someone attacked my mind in potions - but then they stopped, for some reason."

"So the intruder always attacks in Potions, for all of us," N concluded. "Because the standard Legilimency spell doesn't last long, the intruder had to be in the dungeon to maintain and replace it. And since Gryffindors and Ravenclaws don't share Potions, the intruder can't be a student."

Ron slammed a fist onto the table. "Snape!"

How could he have been so _stupid_?! A slimy git like Snape would _obviously_ want Legilimency by his side - he didn't give a rat's arse toward privacy or anything a decent person would.

"That's most likely the truth," N nodded. "But it's more than who's doing it - but rather, for how long?"

"How long?" There was a flash of fear in Neville's eyes.

"We can only sense the intruder - Snape - because we have our shields up. There's no telling how long he had been scanning our minds before then. But if he isn't curious about the Anima…" N waited for them to complete the statement.

"It means that he already knows - from reading our minds. Instead, he wanted to know where - or how - we learned Occlumency, to protect ourselves."

There was a stark silence.

"We need to verify this, of course."

Ron stared at N. "What do you mean?"

N drummed his fingers on the table. "What we've deduced is nothing more than educated guesswork," he said. "We could be missing a piece to the puzzle, and we could be worrying ourselves over nothing."

"But someone has been looking into our minds!"

"True - but that's assuming only Snape's the only other adult wizard in the classroom," N explained. "I can see you want to tell Professor Dumbledore about this, but before that, we need to make sure that it's Snape and not, say, someone using the Potions classroom to frame Snape, since he's so despised."

"You're joking…"

N shook his head. "We have to make sure - and I know how we can do that." N leaned forward. "I've been nothing but a model student to him for the past two and a half years. He might - _might_ \- let me get away with a Legilimency attack on him. If he defends himself, we'll know he's the intruder. If he doesn't, then it's someone else."

Neville wrung his hands. "N, this is really, _really_ dangerous," he cautioned.

"It'll be fine," N promised. "I'll make sure I don't get into too much trouble."

* * *

"Well, Ron, Neville, Harry, it looks like I have detention."

The three of them winced. Harry was informed of their suspicions of Snape - and he was, of course, angry. It took a lot of time for them (read: Neville) to calm him down. Ron was busy trying to rein in his emotions at the time.

They had also told Hermione about their suspicions of Snape. She was also concerned, like they were, and was now interested in learning Occlumency. But when Ron suggested she come along to the lessons, she refused, saying that it was something she could learn on her own and that she didn't need _Ron's_ help, of all people, to learn anything.

Then she turned back to her Alchemy bok and refused to speak with him for the rest of the hour.

Bringing himself back to the present, Ron twirled his wand. "That git," he finally said. "He sensed you, then?"

N nodded. "I made sure to do it when his back was turned. He spun around quickly once I entered his mind and sent a counter Legilimency attack. There's no mistaking it - he's the intruder.

"And as for now, we're going to have to shore up our defenses. I barely managed to hold off his counterattack, but if he has even half a brain - which he does - then he'll figure out we know he's the intruder. That's probably what the detention is all about, too - I looked away from my cauldron for a split second and it started slowly melting. Snape was there to stop it and repair the damage, but then he assigned me the detention."

N ruefully smiled. "Twelve Knuts on him purposefully sabotaging my potion to assign me detention."

No one was going to take that bet.

"N, you can't go to the detention," Neville warned. "Who knows what Snape'll do now?"

N was silent.

"N, you can't _seriously_ be thinking of going there!"

"It's not like I have much of a choice," N warned. "The detention won't go away, even if I ignore it - and if I _do_ ignore it, then I'm going to lose more points unnecessarily."

"Points?!" Ron roared. "Who cares?!"

N raised an eyebrow. "Easy for you to say - you're a Gryffindor, and I'm a Ravenclaw. You'll _benefit_ from me losing house points."

Ron's ears went red. "That's - that's not what I-"

"Not what you meant? I know, Ron." N smiled. "Still, I'm going to go. The only thing I get by not going is time to strengthen my Occlumency."

"Then ignore the detention and strengthen your Occlumency!"

N was silent.

"You're still thinking of going, aren't you."

"The Hat had also wanted to put me in Gryffindor," N explained. "I think you can see why."

The three of them were silent.

Then Harry looked at N. "Give us some way to contact you, in case the detention goes south."

N was silent, contemplating something. Then he smiled. "Give me an hour - I'll be back soon, so you guys can follow me to the detention." He rushed out of the library.

Harry turned to Ron and Neville, whipping out his wand. "What defensive spells do you know?"

"... I was just thinking of turning into a Growlithe and attacking Snape," Ron answered, shrugging. "Can _you_ outduel him?"

Harry had a contemplative look on his face. "Still… let's practice a little Legilimency, then," he suggested. "I can use Legilimency on you two and see how strong your defenses are."

While Harry had little-to-no success in using Occlumency, he was a powerful Legilimens - after Harry has tried the Legilimens spell one time on Ron, it took him hours to pull the shields back up to full strength.

And sure enough, Harry's Legilimency was nearly powerful enough to rip through Ron's shields - it exhausted nearly all of Ron's and Neville's stamina.

So much so that none of them noticed Scabbers falling out of Ron's pocket and scurrying out of the library… to the Owlery.

After the hour was up, N returned to them. Neville and Ron were panting, while Harry was lightly sweating. Still, Harry had an extraordinary grin on his face - Legilimency was rather easy, and a little fun, for him.

N turned to them. "It took a favor or two… but here." N pulled out a couple of tarot cards. "I got Cynthia Merrythought - she's a sixth year I know - to make these since she owes me some sweets. They should work as communication devices." He held them out. "Take one."

The three of them each took a card.

N pulled out another card - this one with a small tab on the corner. "These cards have been enchanted with a modified Protean charm - look." N folded the tab on his special card. The other three cards folded in half. "Keep an eye on them. If I'm in danger, I'll fold it." N unfolded the tab, and the cards their hands also unfolded. "If we don't go now, I'll be late."

N started walking to the library doors again. Harry, Neville, and Ron got up from their chairs and started walking next to him.

The walk to the dungeons was silent and terse. Ron briefly considered warning N about the danger, then realized that he wasn't exactly one to talk about that sort of thing. The three of them stood outside the door as N walked into the dungeon classroom.

Harry was gripping his wand tightly as N went in. He and N got on well - certainly not as well as he and Ron did, but they were becoming fast friends nonetheless.

"I don't like this," Harry said, as the door closed behind N. "Snape's not safe to be around alone."

"N wouldn't be safe even if we were there too, Harry," Neville reminded. "How much do you think Snape knows about us? There's not much we can do that he can't stop."

"The Anima-"

"Is stoppable… I think." Neville said. "Try to use the Leg-Locker Curse on me." Neville quickly turned into his Anima form - an 'Eevee', last Ron checked on the scroll.

Cottoning on to what Neville was trying to test, Ron turned his wand on Neville and cast the Leg-Locker Curse, which he remembered from first-year. Slowly, ever so slowly, Neville's Eevee legs snapped together.

Then, with a force of great exertion, Neville pulled them apart again and transformed back.

"Well, Neville? It worked, didn't it?"

Neville, though, was frowning. "In a sense, yeah… but it was a lot weaker than it was when Malfoy used it on me. You know the Counter-Curse to it, right?"

Ron nodded.

"Try again," Neville suggested. "I won't transform this time."

With another Leg-Locker Curse, Neville's legs were once again pinned together - though, this time, he was completely unable to pull them apart.

As Ron undid the curse, Harry frowned. "Does turning into your Anima give you a resistance to spells?"

"Probably," a voice answered.

The three of them turned to find Farran standing in the dungeon corridor, holding a writhing rat.

"Scabbers!" Ron rushed forward and picked up his pet rat, who was shivering. "What did you do to him?!"

Farran shrugged. "I found him trying to dodge Mrs. Norris in a corridor. Since I didn't want to take care of him, I enlisted Fred and George's help in finding you. Keep a better eye on your pets so this doesn't happen again."

Ron's face flushed, but he nodded. "Thanks - and sorry for making you come all the way down to the dungeons."

"I needed to stretch my legs anyway," Farran remarked. "I've made it into the second-year textbooks - I think I'm getting the hand of _Obliviate_, now." Farran looked around. "Why are you down _here_, though? This place is filthy - and I thought you hated Snape."

Harry's eyes flashed. "We _do_," he said lowly. "N - Nathaniel Scamander - got in trouble with Snape for trying to use Legilimency on him."

"Legilimency?!" Farran's eyes widened. "You found out how to use that?!"

"N's grandmother is an Occlumens - she had manuals on the subject."

Farran coughed. "I'll have to get my hands on them," he vowed. "Just make sure I never have to touch your filthy rat ever again."

Ron's ears went red. "He's _clean_!" Ron roared. "Cleaner than any other rat I know!" Ron held the shivering Scabbers out in his palm. "Just look at him!"

Farran looked at the mangled rat skeptically. "He looks diseased." Ron opened his mouth to protest.

Then Scabbers bit him on his finger.

"Argh!"

Cursing and in pain, Ron dropped Scabbers on the floor. With a quick jump and a skitter, Scabbers started scrambling away from Ron and into the corridors.

Ron, his hand in pain, started running after him. "Harry, Neville, stay back!" He reminded as they started running toward him. "Make sure N is safe - I'll be right back!"

Ron started running through the corridors, trying to find Scabbers, with Farran on his tail.

"Your… rat… is a… maniac!" Farran gasped, his stamina low, as they ran through the corridors. "Why aren't we using our Anima?!"

"To keep it secret - why are you here?!" Ron panted back, as Scabbers made a sharp turn. As they spun around the corner, Farran groaned.

"I don't know - I felt like you needed help?!" Farran groaned.

"Since when has that ever mattered to you before?!"

Farran just moaned again, his speed flagging. "You know what - let's just make this easy."

Farran stopped running and steadied his breathing. In the blink of his eye, his irises started glowing. Scabbers, who had been nearly about to turn another corner, found himself floating in the middle of the air.

"That's… how someone _intelligent_ does things!" Farran panted at Ron.

Ron, a little winded himself, went forward to grab Scabbers - but before he could, Scabbers dropped out of the air. With a quick skitter, the rat turned the corner and fell out of sight again.

Ron groaned. "Farran?!" He turned around. "You couldn't hold him for five seconds…"

Farran couldn't exactly control his psychic powers at that point - mostly because he was on the edge of consciousness due to a rather meaty punch by Crabbe.

Malfoy smirked at him. "Oh, it seems I've caught a Weasel." Malfoy twirled his wands. "Looks like Wormtail was reliable after all - though, I think bewitching a _rat_ of all things is rather… plebian." Crabbe laughed oafishly, holding onto Farran's barely aware body with two meaty fists.

Ron swore, pulling out his wand - but then Malfoy waggled a finger.

"Not so fast, Weasel." He looked at someone behind Ron. "Now, Goyle."

Ron froze, as a large shadow loomed behind him.

"This is for my finger."

Then Ron felt very light-headed, as his head cracked sharply on stone and his body fell against a dungeon wall.

As Ron tried to collect his bearings, Malfoy slowly walked up to him, then jammed an arm inside Ron's robes. Ron, despite his dazed state, still felt a note of panic.

"Let's see… where is it…" Then Malfoy smirked, as he pulled out the amulet.

"G...Give that…" Ron garbled out. "Give that back!"

"What did Wormtail say the incantation was…" Malfoy cleared his throat. "_Excitare Anima!_"

Ron froze.

There was a small burst of light, as a cloying smell of mint filled the air. Malfoy's body was wreathed in the light as Crabbe and Goyle looked on, gobsmacked.

A thick fear settled over Ron. There was no point in hiding it now. Gathering the last of his wits, he turned into a Growlithe and got ready to fight, finishing his transformation at the same time Malfoy did.

The two of them faced each other - Ron, as a Growlithe, and Malfoy, as a small green snake-like thing on two legs (Ron didn't think that it looked all that impressive).

Malfoy started twisting and turning, admiring himself, before turning to Ron and smirking. "I wonder what would happen if I…" Malfoy swung his tiny green arm, and several sharp leaves flew out. Ron's eyes widened before he quickly dodged to the side. The leaves dug themselves into the castle wall behind him.

Malfoy eyes widened - if he hadn't been such a snobby git, Ron was sure that his mouth would have been gaping.

Then a gleam appeared in his eyes, and he started laughing.

"What's so funny, Malfoy?!"

A devilish grin appeared on Malfoy's face. "You know, I wasn't sure Wormtail was trustworthy… that he was leading me on. I half thought this was going to be a prank by those idiotic twins… but this is _spectacular!_"

Malfoy turned back into a human and slung the amulet around his neck. "I think I'll be keeping this from now on - it's too good for a blood traitor like you. My father won't need it immediately, so I can hold on to it for a while."

Ron filled his mouth with fire and leaped at Malfoy, only to be swatted out of the air by Goyle and slammed against the castle wall. Crabbe gave Farran one last punch to the face, then dropped him on the floor.

"And for good measure, to stop you from ratting out on us… _Obliviate!_"

Ron, weak, couldn't hope to dodge the spell in time. He stood there, waiting for the spell to wipe his memories away.

…

…

…

Ron opened his eyes, confused. Why weren't his memories gone?

Laughing at the two of them, Malfoy and his cronies left, Malfoy spinning the amulet around his finger before putting it on his neck.

Ron wearily pulled himself from the castle wall, his head spinning wildly. Farran looked nearly unconscious.

Then he felt a note of panic - Malfoy had the amulet!

Ron tried summoning the amulet back… and it didn't come. He tried again and again, for what felt like an eternity… but the amulet refused to return to him.

"Ron…" Farran groaned, pulling himself up. "What… what happened?"

Ron felt like throwing up. "Malfoy ambushed us and left… and he took the amulet with him. He's the Wielder now."

* * *

"So Fire and Lightning are linked?"

Ron waved his hands. "In a weird way, yeah. They're both powerful and energetic - they're like brothers or two halves of the same whole."

Reshiram...

"What about Ice?" N asked, bringing the alchemical symbol in front of his tutor. "How is it linked to them?"

Ron scratched his head. "Link Ice with Fire and Lightning?" He looked at the symbol with intense determination.

"Fire is nearly completely opposed with Ice, and Water is more incompatible." Hermione recited before she frowned. "If you were to add Lightning into the mix…"

"You'd need a link between the three of them - Metal, maybe." Ron cautiously said. "But Professor Dumbledore has only started working with us on using pairs in formulas - it would be better to ask him."

… the DNA Splicers…

Hermione nodded. "That sounds about right." She closed the book. "Well, I think that's enough for today. Let's start on Occlumency."

N scratched his head. "Sorry, but I need to work on the essay on Neptune for Astronomy. Ron, can you teach her for today? I'll owe you a favor."

Ron groaned. "Seriously?"

N dug around in his robe's pocket, before pulling out a small Pumpkin Pasty. "One of my dormmates gave me this earlier today. Does this cover it?"

Ron looked pensive - or at least, he tried to. But N saw the small bit of drool hanging from the corner of his lips - they had skipped out on lunch earlier that day to work on the plan. N knew he wouldn't resist for too long.

"Sure," he finally said. N tossed him the pasty, and Ron practically leaped upon it, tearing the wrapping apart quickly.

"Ron?" Hermione asked. "Have a little bit of decorum, would you?" Ron didn't answer, as he was stuffing his face with pumpkin-flavored sweets.

"If you don't mind, I need to leave now," N said.

"Oh, of course," Hermione smiled as she looked at him. "I hope you do well - make sure to take into account the Kuiper Belt's gravitational pull on Neptune!"

"I will," N promised, before walking away. He soon set himself down at a table and started work on the essay - though, as he did so, his thoughts began to wander.

Hermione had taken Neville's place in their Occlumency lessons. Neville had grown strong enough that N's tutoring couldn't help anymore. He and Farran were working together now - Farran's tutoring was rather weak, a truly poor formula, since it was brought about by self-study as opposed to being brought about by a teacher.

Their synergy had a powerful intensity to it as well. Farran's overconfidence, borderline arrogance, was tempered well by Neville's humility and ability to check Farran's ego. Neville no longer let anyone walk over him - N could tell that Ron had managed to kick that out of him.

What's more, the improbable attack on the Quidditch stadium by the Dementors during November's game had stopped Harry from attending entirely (now he was looking for a defense against Dementors). He still practiced the Mental Arts, but only with Ron, and only in his free time, and only by playing Mind Chess (a game made by combining the Mental Arts with chess, generating a third dimension to the game). Other than that, Harry had effectively disappeared from their lessons as well.

N could tell that Ron was feeling lonely, so he suggested that their other friend - Hermione Granger - join them in their Alchemy and Occlumency lessons. Ron, with some poking and prodding, agreed. N partially thought that Hermione wasn't _as_ obstinate and prideful as Ron claimed, though upon meeting her, that soon came under question.

Hermione was very scrutinizing and cautious, though idealistic - N could see that as a formula for success if she developed herself correctly. Once she managed to swallow her pride and ask Ron for lessons, she quickly shot back up the 'ranks' of the class, competing closely with Ron for the top position. She was also a talented Occlumens and would surpass Ron before the end of the year.

Not N, though - he had years of experience with Occlumency and Legilimency, thanks to Grandma Tina and Grandaunt Queenie. Ron didn't need to know he was as experienced as he was.

As N continued writing the essay on Neptune - making sure to log down the coordinates he needed - he heard a familiar feminine chuckle. "N, your calculations are a day off."

N checked the map again and grimaced. "Apologies - I was preoccupied." He quickly went over the calculations again, made the corrections, and turned back to her. "How about now - did I apply the formulas correctly?"

She looked over his shoulder, humming to herself. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it, though I don't expect otherwise. Honestly, I was more surprised you made a mistake in the first place. You seem to be just as intrigued in the constellations as I was, N."

N waved a hand in the air. "They aren't as interesting as the ones in our world - these are based on myths and legends, off fabricated ideals, while ours are based on the legendaries, the truth."

She rolled her eyes. "N, this world is our world, just as much as our old one is. I miss our original world, but I'm coming to accept this one as well." She sighed. "Why can't you do the same?"

N twirled his wand in his fingers. "You remember Phoebe, right?"

"The Misdreavus that used to be a boggart?"

"She's a sign - soon, we'll be able to find a way to return to our old world." A strong light shone in N's eyes. "Once we manage to get the amulet back, I'll find a way to open a way back to our world.

She huffed. "Is that why you're spending so much time with Weasley and all his friends?"

N waved his hands. "That's none of your concern. Is there any reason why you came to talk to me?"

Her smile brightened. "Oh, yeah! I want to know how your plan to retrieve the amulet is going."

N started doodling complex chemical formulas that Zinzolin had forced him to memorize. "It hasn't had much progress. Malfoy hardly lets the amulet out of his sight, and we can't corner him without causing a scene. Hermione has already tried asking Dumbledore, but Dumbledore is adamant that Ron takes responsibility for his mistakes.

"So, we've decided to take the amulet by force - and in secret. Once we manage to find a route to get to Malfoy in his sleep, we'll exchange his amulet with a fake - though, before that, we need to take care of 'Wormtail'."

"'Wormtail' is the one who gave Malfoy the plan, right?"

"Right - and since he hasn't made another move in the past month, it's fair to say that he's content where things are. If Ron manages to retrieve the amulet, Wormtail will just hand it back to Malfoy or Snape, under the guise of 'lost property'."

She tapped the table. "How do you plan on finding Wormtail?"

N groaned. "That's the problem - he (if they're even a 'he') left no trace of themselves. He managed to bewitch Ron's rat into doing his bidding - the mind's rat was too ordered and structured, last I checked, for it _not_ to be under his influence."

She looked pensive. Then her eyes shot open. "I have an idea!" She quickly pulled out her wand. "_Accio Wormtail's Letter_!"

"What are you…" N's confused question trailed off as two letters flew in from one of the doors of the library. "How… what formula…?"

She rolled her eyes. "I thought you'd gotten out of that 'formula' and 'chemical reaction' phase." She shook her head. "But Wormtail probably isn't 'one of us' - he's a wizard who does things the way a wizard does. That means the use of quills and parchment, owls and letters. It means," she took the old letter in her hand and shook it a bit. "That we have a lead."

N took the letter doubtfully and read through it. "Whoever Wormtail is… he's good at keeping things a secret." There wasn't much in the letter - just anything and everything Malfoy would want and need. One letter describing what Malfoy would get from cooperating - a 'special form' that no one else could get access to - and the other, a little fresher, describing when and where he should be for the ambush.

"Still, you can probably figure a few things out from it, N."

N nodded. "Yeah - Wormtail was here with us, on the day of the ambush. There's no other way he could have found out that Ron was going with me to the dungeon… unless he was one of the other Ravenclaws who overheard our conversation and the creation of those Protean cards."

She winced. "We weren't being too subtle, were we?"

N frowned. "Maybe - can you keep an eye on the other Ravenclaws that were in that room, in case one of them is Wormtail?"

She raised her hand in a mock salute. "Yes, sir!"

There was a moment's silence before she fell apart, snickering and smiling.

"Excellent," N chose to ignore. "But let's go with the assumption that he was here with us. That means that he has a way to conceal himself, evading touch, smell, sight, and hearing."

"Will you need my help for anything else?"

N shook his head. "You've helped enough - though if I need any help, will you come to my aid?"

She nodded. "Of course, N."

N grinned. "Then I'll find this 'Wormtail', Cynthia. I'll do it if it's the last thing I'll ever do. And I'll enjoy the challenge."

* * *

Al-Fazeta wearily stretched his bones, groaning. His bones weren't so supple in the frozen desert air - with air conditioners, it was always more comfortable in the summer than it was in the winter.

Granted, if he had access to a heater, things would be better. But the inside of the pyramid wasn't air-conditioned, and he wasn't particularly skilled with modern spells… so he had to make do.

Al-Fazeta continued running his fingers along the wall and the floor, trying to find the switch that the English boy had activated.

He had thought that he had locked the artifacts away forever, far away, making sure that no one would misuse it again. No Muggles could reach it, no wizards able to find it.

Then one boy just happens to have it, leaving Al-Fazeta to tear down the defenses of the pyramids the boy visited. Over the past half-year, he had spent every night looking inside the pyramid, trying to find the way inside.

Most likely, tonight would have no success as well. It would be a shame, but-

_*CLICK*_

He felt something change in the air. Then, before he knew it, he was falling through the air.

Al-Fazeta sighed. Another trap. He'd have to mark it on his map and work out the trigger and-

Then he realized where he was.

A sanctuary.

He stepped over one of the old skulls and looked at the altar. Then he laughed.

It hadn't been reset since the redheaded boy had done it - and what a poor puzzle it was at that. Ideally, one was supposed to light the magic gunpowder on the ground with flames from the torches, then take the amulet and find their way out.

Al-Fazeta was surprised people had failed this in the first place. Flames on the torch to gunpowder on the ground - a child could figure it out. A child _had_ figured it out.

He grimaced, then shook his head. "Amateurs."

He strode to the altar and looked in the box inside. There was a thick layer of dust, with small item-shaped indentations.

Al-Fazeta inspected them closer. They seemed to be in the shape of a few of his artifacts - specifically, the amulet (which was being wielded by the boy he had met in the Aaksabil) and the scroll, which the boy had (probably) taken as well.

Yet there were only two indentations, in the shape of only those two items. That didn't account for the other five.

Al-Fazeta continued scouring the room for the other five artifacts, but couldn't find anything that would help. "The compass would come in handy, right about now," he groused under his breath.

After Al-Fazeta had found the redheaded boy with the amulet, he had immediately gone to check on the other artifacts, looking in a specific cache he had dug in a large rock fissure.

Empty.

In retrospect, the Egyptians had a few centuries - no, millennia - to find the cache, and he hadn't bothered returning to check on them, considering the whole matter a waste.

The only reason he was here in the first place was that he was surprised to see the amulet in the open air again. Now that he had found out that his 'treasure' was long found out… he'd have to retrieve them.

Al-Fazeta looked around in the chamber and found a spot on the wall that looked a little different, as though someone placed their hands on it. There was a faint tingle of magic around it as well, giving off the impression that it was cursed or enchanted in some way.

It took a few tries, but he managed to get the pattern down. Within seconds, the wall rumbled down, through some unknown mechanism, and Al-Fazeta walked out and up the stairs.

He stopped at the passageway and laughed.

In front of him was a barrier - but not just any barrier. No, it was attuned to the magic inside the scroll and the amulet, to stop anyone from taking it out of the chamber. If his observations were correct, it would cause a great deal of pain to whoever was holding the amulet at the time.

But it didn't stop the Wielder from simply summoning the amulet or scroll to themselves after leaving. The new redheaded wielder certainly managed to figure it out.

After passing through the laughable defense, Al-Fazeta encountered a small hallway and observed the murals on it. They were well done and accurate to the figures of the Anima in the scroll - the Pharaoh who had this pyramid built probably enjoyed the power the amulet had bestowed upon him and thus considered the writing of the scroll sacred.

A small smile cracked across his face as he looked at it. Now wasn't he getting homesick…?

Still, that raised the question of where the other five artifacts were… unless…

Al-Fazeta quickly strode out of the hallway and into another path, this one trailing to the treasure chamber. The Pharaoh had separated the artifacts - he had placed the amulet and the scroll together, and the other five somewhere else.

Given the protections placed on the two artifacts, the Pharaoh most likely placed those two at the highest value - he must not have figured out how to use the other artifacts or didn't care. A shame - they had just as much potential as the other two.

Al-Fazeta arrived at the treasure chamber, long since ransacked by Muggle tomb raiders. He could almost smell it - the faint tingle of his old magic. The Pharaoh had kept the five artifacts here, burying them with him through death. Muggles had probably taken any interesting artifacts long before the wizards could get here.

That meant that the other five artifacts - the ring, the staff, the compass, the bow, and the sword - were all in the Muggle world, most likely scattered. He would have to either scour the earth and find them himself or retake the amulet from the boy and summon them.

Al-Fazeta knew which one was easier.

* * *

Long after Al-Fazeta had left the tomb, intent on finding Ron Weasley's location, something else had stirred in the altar. Magic born in an attempt to replicate the powers of the Anima reacted with the changing of the sands of time.

When wizarding archaeologists returned to the pyramid the day after Al-Fazeta left, the repelling enchantments he placed wearing off, they found that the inside of the pyramid was barred from all angles - no Apparition or Portkeys could find a way inside. Muggle archaeologists found the same problem not a week later. The news attracted media attention for a day.

The inside of the pyramid soon became desolate and alone, any living creatures either dying without sustenance or being forbidden entrance to the pyramid by unique magic.

And, as new barriers formed, old ones began to crack, long since being attacked by those who dabbled too far in places where they knew too little.

On the altar, where Ron Weasley wore the amulet for the first time, a flame sprung to life and a creature from another world… the first of its kind… appeared in a world where only imitators and clones had appeared.

With a large flap, a Volcarona crossed worlds.

* * *

**Snivy**

**Category: Grass Snake Anima**

**Abilities: Overgrow, Contrary**

**Type: Grass**

**Description: Snivy**** is the Royal Snake Pokemon. This little prince is haughty, yet can also be calm, cool, and collected if need be. It gathers energy from the sun using its tail for photosynthesis - the more sunlight it receives, the faster it will be. Its tail will start drooping as an indicator of its overall health. It can command its vines more adeptly than its hands. **

**Evolves into: Servine, Serperior**

* * *

**Another month, another chapter.**

**Hoo boy, is this slow or what?! I'm not going to make excuses, so if you're still hanging around, thanks! **

**Yup, Cynthia's here too - though, she won't have _too_ much of an impact for now. N is the one that is pushing hard and making waves. **

**And... yeah. Malfoy got the amulet, ripped it from Ron's dazed neck, and Ron was to find a way to get it back (Dumbledore isn't going to be much help, much like how he spent most of the time in the books off-screen). Who here guessed Malfoy would turn into a Snivy.**

**And now... we're starting to get some hints at the more overarching plot. Just who _is_ Al-Fazeta?**

**Stay tuned, and feel free to review, fav, and follow.**

**Catch you later!**


	9. Biting Blizzards

"Harry," Lupin called after class one day, interrupting Ron as he was saying something about the Cannons to Harry. "I'd like a word."

Harry doubled back and watched Professor Lupin covering the Hinkypunk's box with a cloth.

"I heard about the match," said Lupin, turning back to his desk and piling books into his briefcase, "and I'm sorry about your broomstick. Is there any chance of fixing it?"

"No," said Harry. "The tree smashed it to bits."

Lupin sighed, "They planted the Whomping Willow the same year that I arrived at Hogwarts. People used to play a game, trying to get near enough to touch the trunk. In the end, a boy called Davey Gudgeon nearly lost an eye, and we were forbidden to go near it. No broomstick would have a chance." He gave a sorrowful look to Harry.

"Did you hear about the Dementors too?" said Harry with difficulty.

Lupin looked at him quickly. "Yes, I did. I don't think any of us have seen Professor Dumbledore that angry. They have been growing restless for some time… furious at his refusal to let them inside the grounds… I suppose they were the reason you fell?"

"Yes," said Harry. "They had surrounded me, and I couldn't fly away. And even if I could, I could barely think straight."

He had thought that Occlumency might have been able to help - but the barriers he had made were swept aside like they were nothing. Since they were now weaker from the whole ordeal, Harry couldn't even begin to pretend that his Occlumency barriers would find a way to protect him.

The silence stretched for a few seconds.

"Why?!" Harry found himself asking. "Why do they affect me like that? Why am I so much worse off!"

"Not many people have had a horrible past as you have had, Harry," Lupin reminded him. "Dementors rip every shred of happiness from you. If you stay near it for too long, nothing - not even a single shred of hope - will remain." Lupin gulped. "Dementors… Harry, they bring out the worst memories of people. And, Harry, what's happened to you would make anyone slip off their broom."

Harry wasn't very consoled by this. "I had thought that Occlumency would help," he admitted. "But it doesn't seem to do much."

Lupin studied Harry very hard. "Harry, I didn't know you were studying Occlumency at this age. Not many do. It is a rather obscure art, as well. But trying to stave off Dementors with Occlumency is an exercise in vain, Harry."

Ron, who had been listening by the corner, barged in. "Why?!" He demanded.

Lupin called over Harry's shoulder. "Mr. Weasley, I believe you are interrupting a conversation between Harry and myself." At this, Hermione took Ron's arm and started dragging him away from the conversation, whispering to him.

Lupin looked at Harry again. "Harry, how skilled _are_ you in Occlumency?"

"Not very, Professor Lupin," Harry shamefully admitted. "I… I've tried to learn, but no matter how hard I try, I can't clear my mind', and any barriers I put up are weak. Hermione only started learning a month ago, but she's so far ahead of me it's laughable."

Lupin thought for a moment. "There may be a reason for that," he finally said. "You're much like your father, Harry. Brash, brave, kind… and honest. You wear your emotions on your sleeve, Harry - and that's the death knell for Occlumency."

"Really?"

"Harry, Occlumency depends on the serenity of the heart and the masking of the emotions," Lupin explained. "You share your thoughts easily and quickly - Occlumency is nigh impossible for someone like you, and as Dementors debilitate a person's inner peace, using it as a defense _is_ impossible."

So that was that. Harry gulped. "Thank you, Professor Lupin. Is that all?"

Lupin nodded. "If you want to leave, go ahead. The door is waiting for you."

Harry grabbed his bags and started walking out. But before he left the threshold of Lupin's classroom, he spared Lupin one final look. "Professor Lupin… _are_ there defenses one can use against a Dementor?" It would be good to know if the tree he barking up had anything at the top.

Lupin slowly nodded. "Yes, Harry, there are defenses a wizard can use to protect himself against Dementors - but they are very, _very_ difficult to learn, especially at your age."

Harry had made up his mind though. "What are they?" he pressed, turning around to look squarely at Lupin. "I need to know, Professor."

Lupin sighed. "There is… Harry, even if I tell you, I must warn you that you won't get far into learning the defense without a proper teacher."

"Can _you_ teach me, Professor Lupin."

There was a small silence.

"I'm no expert at fighting Dementors, Harry, nor do I pretend to be."

"But if Dementors come to another Quidditch match, I _need_ to be able to fight them," Harry argued. "Occlumency can't help me - maybe whatever you can teach me will."

Lupin sat down, looking weary. There was a distant look in his eyes as he pondered what Harry had said to him.

"Very well," he finally acquiesced. "I'll do my best to help you, Harry. But it will have to wait until after the holidays - I have enough work to do right now as is."

* * *

It was with joy that Harry walked out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Outside, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were waiting for him.

"I can't believe it!" Ron raged to Harry as they walked down to lunch. "Occlumency is the 'protector of the mind', but it can't even stop a single Dementor?! What kind of bloody rules do these things follow?!"

Hermoine rolled her eyes. "You need to be calm to use Occlumency, Ron, and Dementors leave you anything but calm."She shivered a little bit. "Now and again, I can still feel those cold shivers. It's easier when I'm a human, though, so I haven't gone into my Anima form for months."

"Whatever," Ron waved her off. "But I'm not calm at all! Why can I use Occlumency so well, then?!"

"Maybe you have so little in your head," Neville quietly snarked. "That it doesn't matter whether you're calm or not."

With the hope of anti-Dementor lessons from Lupin, Harry's mood took an upturn. Gryffindor wasn't out of the running for the Quidditch Cup, even with Harry's spectacular loss, and Wood was driving them harder than ever in their near-daily practice. Dementors never seemed to enter the grounds either, as Dumbledore had made it quite clear to them that what had happened on the pitch was intolerable.

Harry gave up on Occlumency completely - there was no point to him learning it anymore if it couldn't help him keep safe from Dementors. Snape was an issue as well, but Harry just kept up Legilimency probes around him, lashing out back at Snape whenever Snape tried to enter his mind.

While Harry had completely given up on Occlumency, he was nowhere near giving up with Legilimency. Every day, his ability to pierce barriers and enter minds grew. Ron was doing all he could to keep up with Harry, yet every day Harry managed to break through into Ron's head a little faster than he had before. He had already well out-stripped Neville and Farran's ability to block him out, and even Hermione was finding it difficult to keep him out.

However, Harry's Legilimency couldn't reliably pierce into N or Snape, if they were concentrating. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get anywhere into their mind, even if he managed to pierce a few of their barriers.

"Knight to E3!"

And this was how he and Ron practiced. Harry would routinely try to pierce Ron's head as they played a game of wizard's chess, and glean his potential moves or overall strategy. Ron, meanwhile, had to both keep him out and think of new, better moves.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Harry was getting farther and farther in their matches. Not only was he breaking into Ron's mind faster, but he was starting to learn how Ron played chess from the inside-out. He was forcing Ron to use new and different strategies each time they played - and yet Harry started developing his own, trying out counters to Ron's strategies.

Then, one day, _Ron's_ Legilimency lashed out and broke into Harry's barriers. With a quick, clean sweep, Ron finished that game.

"I figured that I might as well practice that too," Ron smarmed as Harry nursed his bruised ego. "Oh, and what you were trying is the Pine Trunk formation - good if you can get it without alerting the other player, bad if they know." Ron snorted. "And I know."

Soon, Mind Chess changed into each of them using Legilimency only on their turn, while protecting from the other on the other person's turn. Ron's skills finally caught up to Harry's - though Harry was still closing the overall skill gap in chess. A single match could last for a long, _long_ time if they were both in a good mood that day.

But other than the continuing development of Mind Chess, not much happened. The amulet was still with Malfoy, and they still tried to come up with strategies to take it back (Farran was excellent in shooting holes into fledgling plans, the arse). Ron was slowly getting antsy - if something didn't change soon, Harry knew he was going to do something both reckless and stupid.

And so, the month of November fell away and they arrived in December, Ravenclaw destroyed Hufflepuff (N didn't seem to care very much when Harry talked to him about it), and, a few weeks into the month, a large pile of snow enveloped the grounds.

Out of all of them, Ron was the most miserable about this, and he would elect to spend time by himself indoors than bother going outside. Even when Harry and Hermione tried to entice him into going outside, he stalwartly remained indoors.

"It's not for me," Ron evaded when Hermione asked him exactly _why_ he didn't want to go outside. "I just think that maybe snow isn't the most comfortable thing to be in."

But Ron eventually agreed to go outside - on the Hogsmeade weekend. The promise of the smell of Honeydukes seemed to overpower Ron's disinclination to get into the snow. Neville told Harry that he would be staying in the castle as well, to keep him company.

"We'll make sure to bring you lots of sweets after we do our Christmas shopping!" Hermione promised. "I can keep Ron for scarfing down too many sweets."

"Try me," was Ron's serious reply to that. "You won't be able to stop me."

There was a good laugh at that, and Harry felt slightly better. Soon, he and Neville saw Hermione and Ron pass through Filch's little 'security gate', turn the corner, and walk out of sight.

"So, Harry, what do you want to do?"

"I was thinking of looking at new brooms since the Whomping Willow broke my Nimbus," Harry admitted. "Do you have any suggestions-" Right, Neville didn't have any brooms. "Do you want to work on an essay… no." All they had left was Snape's work. "Er…"

There wasn't a practice today (somehow), they had finished all their work, and Neville was _bad_ at chess. As in, Ginny (Ginny, of all people!) could beat him with her eyes closed. Mind Chess would be a cakewalk for him and absolute torture for Neville.

"I have a packet of Exploding Snap - maybe we could play a game?" Neville offered hesitantly.

"... sure," Harry said, a bit relieved. "We can play a game of Exploding Snap - and maybe some Gobstones too."

They started walking to the common room. "You know, Harry," Neville started saying. "I can't help but feel like someone is watching us."

"Really?" After Neville said that, though, Harry felt a peculiar gaze on them as well. Slowly, Harry turned his head to where he felt the stares coming from.

"... well, George, it looks like they got us."

Familiar ginger heads appeared out of thin air.

"How are you doing today, Harry?"

Neville gulped. "F-Fred? George? What are you doing here - and why are you two only heads?"

"Only heads?" George's head looked at Fred's head. "Fred, pull down the Disillusionment Charm - properly this time!"

Fred rolled his eyes before the rest of their bodies materialized - or, as Harry realized, were made visible to the naked eye.

"How about that - can you see us now?" Fred asked. Neville nodded, making George sigh. "See, Fred, _this_ is what happens when you don't do the job right the first time around!"

"What are you, my mother?"

"If I was, I'd do a damn good job of it!" George's voice started imitating Mrs. Weasley's shrill tones. "Fred! _Percy_ never failed his Disillusionment Charms - they _always_ disappeared when he wanted them to!"

There was a stark silence.

"8 points for effort, 9 for the voice, 6 for the impersonation," Fred judged. "Percy wouldn't use a Disillusionment Charm - too lowbrow for him."

"Charlie, then?"

Fred nodded. "Charlie."

Then they turned to Harry and Neville. "Sorry for that brief spat, Harry, but we _really_ need to work on our improvisation."

"Why aren't you two in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked. "Don't you want to go to Zonkos?"

Fred nodded. "Oh, of course. We need to restock on supplies - _Phoebe_ decided to raid ours, and we haven't figured out where they're keeping them."

"But before we go, we've decided to give you… let's call it an 'early Christmas present'." George informed him. "Fred, do you think that Neville's trustworthy enough to know about this?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "I thought the whole point of this was to hoist the map onto Harry so that Phoebe wouldn't be able to get to it."

"True, true…" George mused, before taking Neville in hand. "Alright, he can know about it too." Fred and George dragged the two of them to a nearby empty classroom.

"And now... this!" With a large flourish, Fred laid a large, square empty piece of parchment on one of the desks.

"... what?" Neville scratched his head. "Is it just a piece of parchment?"

"Just a piece of parchment?" Fred and George shouted in mock - no, _real_ \- insult. "This is no mere piece of parchment!"

"You see, Harry, when we were wee firsties, just like foggity Farran-"

"-we came by a bit of trouble. Got detention, don't know how."

Harry snorted.

"Filch caught us and brought us by his office. Gave us the usual loud and empty threats, nothing big. Then we saw _it_."

"The drawer - _Confiscated and Dangerous._"

"You _didn't_!" Neville's mouth opened in awe.

"We did!" George preened. "I dropped a Dungbomb and Fred looked inside it. And we found _this_."

Harry inspected the parchment again. It looked like any other piece of parchment - but the diary and the amulet had taught Harry that artifacts often hid their true power.

"What can it do?" Harry asked. "How does it work?"

"Glad you asked, Harry!" Fred tapped his wand to the center of the parchment. "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!_"

Threads of ink spread from where Fred's wand touched the parchment. Soon, a large map of Hogwarts was spread cleanly on the previously blank parchment. Tiny dots, with little names attached to them, constantly moved around. Harry realized that they were the

Then, in a great green curly script, a message appeared at the top of the map.

**Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs**

**Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present **

**THE MARAUDER'S MAP **

"This beauty has taught us more than any teacher has!" Fred proclaimed loudly.

George sighed. "It'll be painful, parting with this beauty… but its safety comes first. Make sure that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

Harry nodded. "Thanks, Fred, George." He took the map in his hands. "I'll make sure to make good use of it."

Then Harry felt something tugging at the side of his robes. "Harry, look." Neville, who had been trying to get Harry's attention, pointed down at the map - at a specific line.

**Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs**

Harry was confused. "Er, Neville? Why are you so worked up about this?" Fred and George looked oddly at the pair.

"Wormtail!" Neville pointed out.

"What about Wormtail…" Realization struck Harry, and he turned back to the map. The words stared back at him. "Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"Think what's a coincidence?" Fred asked him, making Harry jump a little bit.

"Nothing!" he hurriedly denied. "Nothing's a coincidence! We just… found the name odd!"

George rolled his eyes. "Sure, and I'm Salazar Slytherin. Stop taking the mickey out of us and tell us why you're so interested in Wormtail."

Fred's eyes widened. "Hey, George, do you think they recognize him?!"

George's eyes widened too. "Hold on… yeah!" A great big smile split George's face. "Do you know where - no, _who_ he is? Do you know who any of them are?"

"We've been looking for ages! We just want to thank-"

"-them for their contribution to mischief and mayhem-"

"-in the hallowed halls of Hogwarts!"

Neville looked at him. "Harry, do you think we should tell them?"

Harry was left silent for a minute to think.

"... let's go ask Ron," he eventually said. "We could use their help."

"Use our help?" Fred and George asked, a tiny twinkle in their eyes. "For what?"

Harry shrugged. "It's not my secret to tell. Let's go to Honeydukes - Ron will probably be there, he's been talking about it for ages."

Fred and George looked at each other, before nodding. "Alright then!" They stuck out opposing hands at Harry, which he immediately shook. "Let's go then!"

* * *

"Ugh, no, Harry won't want one of those, they're for vampires, I expect," Hermione said to Ron.

"How about these, then?" Ron said, shoving a jar of Cockroach Clusters under Hermione's nose. They looked good enough for him.

"Definitely not," Harry's voice sounded behind him. Ron nearly leaped a foot in the air as Harry appeared out of thin air.

"Harry!" Hermione's eyes widened. "What - I, what are you _doing_ here?!"

"Did you learn how to Apparate?" Ron asked, intrigued. "Can you teach me?"

"Harry wishes he could have Apparated?" Fred and George's voice sounded before they too appeared out of thin air.

"Bloody hell - how many people have you got under there, Harry?"

Neville pulled the cloak off himself.

"Why did I even bother asking?" Ron rhetorically asked. "Just to be sure, there aren't any _other_ people under the cloak, right?"

Harry shook his head. "No one else, Ron."

"Okay, then why-"

But before Ron could finish his sentence, Fred wrapped his arm around Ron. "Let's have this chat somewhere private, shall we?" George too wrapped his arm around Ron, and together they strong-armed him outside Honeydukes (Ron took one last whiff before he left - he'd have to come back as a Growlithe to remember the sweet and pungent scent of thousands of sugary sweets).

"Neville, Hermione, make sure to introduce Harry to the wonderful world of Honeydukes, alright?! "Fred and George shouted back over their shoulders.

"Can do!" Neville saluted, as Hermione smiled.

"Don't worry!" Then she looked at Ron. "We'll see you in the Three Broomsticks!"

Ron groaned. "Why aren't you two in Zonkos - hell, why were you with Harry? Why is Harry _here_?!"

"Don't worry, Ickle Ronniekins! We'll answer all those questions, just as you answer all of ours."

They arrived at the Shrieking Shack, which was damp with melted snow. Ron groaned as the damp mud-soaked his robes. Great - now he was confused, without any sweets, _and _wet

"What's this all about," he asked irritably. "Why do you need me?"

Fred and George looked at each other, before looking at Ron. "Does the name 'Wormtail' ring a bell?"

Ron froze. Then a dark fire raged in his throat.

"It was _you_?!" Ron growled, causing Fred and George to narrow their eyes. "You were the one who sold out the amulet to Malfoy?!"

"What?!" Fred raised an eyebrow. "What on earth are you talking about?!"

A blind, white-hot rage started building in Ron's heart. Flames started spilling out from Ron's mouth.

Fred and George were taken aback by this phenomenon. They whipped out their wands in a hurry. "Ron's there's fire coming from your-"

"SHUT UP!"

Fred and George gripped their wands tighter.

"Every day - every single bloody day - I have to put up with you two! Every single _bloody _day I have to make sure I haven't had my stuff stolen by you! Every single day I have to make that Scabber is still alright in the head, because of what _you two DID TO HIM!_"

Ember after ember fell out of Ron's mouth, soot and ash pouring into a small pile at his feet. Steam billowed from his damp robes as it boiled over. All that Fred and George could do was watch in shock.

"AND FINALLY, I LOST THE AMULET BECAUSE YOU, _WORMTAIL_, DECIDED THAT MALFOY WAS BETTER OFF WITH SOMETHING THAN I AM. DO YOU HATE ME _THAT_ MUCH?! DO YOU?!"

Ron's soul was eclipsed in fire - with a savage roar, all reason fell from his mind. Ron fell on all fours, causing Fred and George to step back in alarm.

"Ron, we're not - what are you talking about?!"

"_ENOUGH!_" Ron screamed, too taken in by his emotions to pay attention. "I'M SICK AND TIRED OF ALL OF YOUR SHITE! GRAAARGHH!"

And with that, Ron's body fell into an unconscious, painful transformation. Fred and George stared and Ron's legs shrunk, as his mouth fell into a snout and his hair turned into a pelt that covered his body.

"Fred?" George gulped. "What the hell is…" Then a bolt of realization hit George's brain. "Fred, that can't be…"

"George, I think it _is_ that thing we saw!"

Ron roared, and the two shrunk back. Then Ron leaped blindly, trying to go for the flammable and loose cloaks.

George swore before scampering out of the beast's way. But before he could make a retreat, Ron pivoted and jumped toward a shocked Fred.

"Fred, we have to stop it!" George whipped out his wand. "Come on, come on... _Petrificus Totalus!_"

Ron fell to the ground in an ugly heap, his legs bound and his body unmoving. Fred sighed in relief.

Then, with an audible snap, the magic binding broke, and Ron leaped toward Fred again, anger unabated.

Fred jumped frantically as Ron doggedly nipped at his heels. Ron, in the haze of rage, realized that he wasn't going to get much damage on the two traitors if he kept trying to bite them like a common mutt.

Ron jumped to the side, causing Fred to trip backward. Flames started roiling in Ron's snout, and within a split second, he fired it at Fred's wayward robes.

Fred didn't move as his robes ignited, only staring at Ron in shock. George, though, was quicker on the uptake, banishing some of the snow on the ground so it snuffed out the flames.

"Fred, use _magic_!" George cried, flinging random spell after random spell at Ron. Ron nimbly dodged them all, looking for an opening to attack.

Then, a split second later, Ron found one. George was looking in Fred's direction - Fred had dropped his wand, as his hand had been shaking too hard. Ron did was his instincts told him to do and went for George's throat. Soon, he had George knocked on the ground, the wand flying a few meters away from the two.

But something strange within him stopped him - he had tried to close his fangs around George's throat, but his mouth wouldn't obey him. He… he couldn't do it.

"_Depulso_!"

Ron felt a strange jerking motion, as his body was pushed to the side. Fred had his wand out, gripping it tightly.

"G...Get away from him!" Fred cried in fear and panic.

Ron got up, ready to try again. But George was quick on the uptake - he quickly snatched up his wand.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Ron felt his limbs seize up again. With a great bit of effort and a struggle, though, he could feel the effect of the curse weakening.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"

This time, both Fred and George cried the incantation, and Ron felt a much stronger charm lock him into place. He struggled and pushed against the binding magic, but to no avail - the curse held firm.

Ron could do nothing.

Fred and George were huffing. "F-Fred?" George looked over to him. "You… you doing alright?"

Fred nodded, before turning to an imprisoned Ron. "What the hell happened to him?" Fred asked. "Why's he that thing we saw in the living room?!"

"I… I don't bloody know, Fred." George collapsed. "I'm tired… Can we leave him like this?"

Fred looked sharply at him, and George wearily got to his feet. "Urgh… fine, then."

"What _do_ we do with him, though?" Fred decided to ask the obvious question at hand.

George shrugged. "I say we get Professor McGonagall to reverse whatever transfiguration he used on himself."

At this point, Ron finally came to his senses, his energy spent and the cold of the snow seeping into his fur. With a stray thought, he managed to undo the transformation.

With the glow of light that accompanied a transformation, Fred and George's attention was once again drawn to Ron's prone form - now human.

"Ron…?" George cautiously asked.

Ron, though, was still angry. Transforming back into a human had restored some of his stamina, now that he wasn't _quite_ as affected by the cold - and with the stamina came a newly refreshed anger.

"You _monsters_." Ron started with a cold glare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? Me, cold and broken on the floor… why?!"

"What the _bloody_ hell are you _talking_ about, Ron?!"

"Wormtail!" Ron shouted back. "You're the one who stole the amulet - you ripped the one thing I had, the one thing only _I_ could have, away! It was mine - nobody else was the Wielder until you bewitched Scabbers and gave Malfoy - _MALFOY! _ \- the amulet."

Fred and George turned to each other, deeply concerned for Ron's sanity.

Ron was seething. "And now… and _now_, of all times?! You drag me out here just to rub it in my face like you do _everything else!_ Did you ever think that I didn't like the pranks, the thefts, the spiders? Or do you like torturing me for your amusement?! Do you, _Wormtail_?"

"I… er… George?" Fred looked helpless.

George, though, had come to realize something. "Ron… do you know who Wormtail is?!"

"_YOU_!" Ron howled, an outburst of accidental magic and flame breaking the Body-Bind. Fred and George started as Ron pointed a shaky finger at him. "_YOU'RE WORMTAIL!_"

There was a stilling pause.

"We… we're not." George finally said.

Something broke in Ron's brain. "Wh-what?!"

"We aren't Wormtail - we don't even know who he is," George admitted. "That's why we brought you out here - we thought you would know."

Fred caught on. "Wait, you thought _we_ were Wormtail?!" Despite the sense of panic he still felt, Fred laughed. "I mean, we're nowhere as good at pranking!"

Ron stared at Fred as George elbowed him. "Not now," he muttered.

"P-pranking?!" Something wasn't adding up. "I - I was attacked - and Wormtail orchestrated it! The amulet was stolen!"

Fred scratched his head. "George, do _you_ have any idea what he's talking about?"

George rubbed his chin. "No… though, he's making it sound like Wormtail attacked him." His eyes widened. "Wait… does that mean that Wormtail is still inside the school?!"

They didn't know… they didn't know!

Something dark broke in his heart. "Are you... Did you have nothing to do with… with _anything_?!"

"Erm… no," George answered. "All we know is that Wormtail is a Marauder - one of the greatest mischief-makers the school has ever seen!"

Ron could hardly believe what he was hearing. Fred and George had nothing to do with the attacks.

"Er… sorry." Was all Ron could say at that. "I thought that you had helped Malfoy steal the amulet. Attacking you was a mistake."

"Mistake my _arse_!" Ron jumped in the air as Fred snapped at him. "You tried to _murder _us!"

"I… yeah…" There wasn' much Ron could say to that. "I… if there's anything I can do…" He offered, shame burning bright inside him.

Fred and George looked at each other. "Well… you _are_ our brother…" Fred started. "But that doesn't mean much when you tried to kill us."

"The thing is, Fred," George said slowly. "He _could_ have killed me, but didn't."

Fred narrowed his eyes. "When was that?"

"When he knocked me on the ground - he didn't do anything for a good ten seconds or so."

"So you're saying he just wanted us to hurt, then?"

George shrugged. "I dunno, Fred."

Fred turned back to Ron. "But us hurting's bad too," he said. "So here's the deal. Tell us everything - and I mean _everything_ \- and we won't tell Mum." Fred pointed his wand at Ron. "That'll be a good start."

Ron sat up, slowly, tired and yet relieved in some strange sense. Then the biting cold reminded him of something he tried once when he was caught in the rain after returning from a Herbology lesson. "Hold on for a second, Fred, George - I'm going to show you something amazing. "

Ron then transformed into a Growlithe, wet and with matted fur. Fred and George started, quickly drawing out their wands and forming incantations on their lips.

Then Ron started shaking himself like a dog would, getting off all of the snow and mud he had caked on him. Once he did that, he closed his snout and started holding his breath. Flames started dancing on his pelt, as the stray mud dried and flaked off, and the snow melted and evaporated. Throughout all of this, the twins just stared at Ron, the incantations dying.

Then Ron transformed again.

"Tada."

Fred managed to unstick his mouth. "Ron, what the hell was _that_?!"

Ron sighed. Time to explain it, yet _again_. "Remember when we were in Egypt?"

* * *

"What do you think is taking them so long?" Hermione asked Harry, as he nursed a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. She had a perturbed look on her face.

"I dunno," Harry mentioned quietly. "It's Ron's secret to tell… how long has it been, Hermione?"

"Forty-five minutes," she answered promptly, looking at her watch.

"It hasn't been that long, then," Neville said. "It took a while for him to explain it all to us too." Neville smiled. "You should relax a little, Harry - drink some butterbeer." Neville nudged a tankard toward Harry.

With a sigh, Harry cracked open the bottle. "Alright, alright…" In a smooth motion, Harry brought the lip of the tankard up to his face and drank. His eyes widened as the nectar-sweet butterbeer slid down his throat, warming up his insides.

He then coughed. "Oh… that's amazing!" He gasped. "It…. it's the best thing I've ever tasted."

Neville grinned. "Glad you like it!"

Harry finished off the butterbeer, slamming it on the ground. "Oh, that was _good_!"

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, we could tell," she said. "I felt it too."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Kirlia."

"That doesn't explain anything…" Harry smacked his head. "Oh, right, your Anima!"

Hermione grinned. "A place like this is _wonderful_ \- not at all like the castle with all of the worries about Sirius Black going around."

Right… Sirius Black. He had come up to Gryffindor Tower, hadn't he? With the Quidditch match and the Map and everything else going on, he had nearly forgotten entirely about the man who had sworn to kill him.

"Where do you think Black is, Harry?" Neville asked. "They've put up those signs - do you think that Black will see them and run?"

"If he's got any common sense, maybe - but then again, escaping from Azkaban isn't 'common sense' either," Harry answered.

Then a small breeze entered the Three Broomsticks, as a small bell chimed. The three of them took a look at the door, to see if Ron and the twins had returned. Then they gasped.

Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick had just entered the pub with a flurry of snowflakes, shortly followed by Hagrid, who was deep in conversation with a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak - Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic.

Then Harry remembered one crucial thing - he was not supposed to be here.

He quickly ducked under the table, making sure not to make any loud sounds that might alert them. As he did so, the Christmas tree lifted into the air and repositioned itself to stop the professors from seeing him.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry quickly whispered., drawing out his wand in case he needed it. Hermione nodded to him as a small pair of turquoise high heels marched to where the professors were sitting.

"A small gillywater -"

"Mine," said Professor McGonagall's voice.

"Four pints of mulled mead -"

"Ta, Rosmerta," said Hagrid.

"A cherry syrup and soda with ice and umbrella -"

"Mmm!" said Professor Flitwick, smacking his lips.

"So you'll be the red currant rum, Minister."

"Thank you, Rosmerta, m'dear," said Fudge's voice. "Lovely to see you again, I must say. Have one yourself, won't you? Come and join us…"

"Well, thank you very much, Minister." Harry watched the heels march away and back again. "So, what brings you here, Minister?"

Harry heard Fudge nearly bite back a laugh. "Sirius Black - what else?"

Harry narrowed his eyes and began to listen closely as the conversation went onwards. Minutes ticked by as Harry laid there, still and statue-like, while the four of them discussed Black.

"... remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta," murmured Professor McGonagall. "Do you remember who his best friend was?"

"Naturally," said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. "Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here - ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!"

Something dark and cold raced into Harry's heart, as he gripped his wand tightly in his hands. Before he could blink, an arc of electricity jumped from the tip of his wand to a bough of the Christmas tree. Instantly, it went ablaze.

Not even thinking, Harry dropped his wand and grabbed the bough with his hands snuffing out the flame with his bare palms. Harry bit back a scream as the heat of fire burned his palms, blistering it. Neville and Hermione looked at him in shock.

"I don't know!" Harry mouthed in a panic to them. Harry had seen Ron create embers when he was upset, but this was _ridiculous_!

Harry let go of the bough, as the flame had stopped - but there was smoke rising from the spot where the fire had blazed. Quickly, Harry waved his arms and dispersed it. Luckily, it didn't have a strong enough scent for the professors to smell.

"... Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?" whispered Madam Rosmerta. Harry instantly focused his attention on the conversation at hand again.

"Worse even than that, m'dear…" Fudge dropped his voice and proceeded in a sort of low rumble. "Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was, of course, working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."

"How does that work?" said Madam Rosmerta, breathless with interest.

Professor Flitwick cleared his throat. "An immensely complex spell," he said squeakily, "involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or SecretKeeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" whispered Madam Rosmerta.

"Naturally-" Professor McGonagall started saying before the door to the Three Broomsticks banged open again. The three of them turned to look at who entered, and Harry nearly swore.

Fred, George, and Ron slowly walked into the Three Broomsticks. Ron was battered, bruised, and stumbling.

"M-Madam Rosmerta?!" Ron stumbled over to where the four professors were discussing Black. "Can I have a butterbeer?" Ron threw down a Galleon and a few Sickles onto the counter.

"Of course," Madam Rosmerta sighed, before moving away.

Ron sat down with the rest of the Professors and started moaning, as Fred and George slowly walked to where the three of them were sitting, having a better view of them from the door than from the counter.

"What happened?!" Hermione hissed. "And what is Ron doing?!"

"Getting us some drinks," George answered, pleased. "And with his own money, too."

"Real kind bloke, if you know what I mean," Fred winked.

"Did you Confund him?" Neville asked, scratching his head.

"Nope!"

"He's been like this ever since that blizzard started up," Fred gestured to the window of the Three Broomsticks. To their surprise, a large snowstorm had started up in the minutes of conversation. "Don't think he's taking it well - though, with his Anima, there's no surprise. Fire dogs don't do well in the cold, I'd imagine."

Harry sighed. "So he decided to tell you, then?" For some reason, Harry was worried Ron would take the twins knowing the amulet well. Glad to see that he was wrong.

"Not exactly." Fred started off.

"After he attacked us in anger, we forced the information out of him." George shrugged at Hermione's horror. "Eye for an eye and all that. He's sorry and all, as far as we can tell, so we're going to milk the situation for all its worth."

"I, personally," Fred said, "will make full advantage of the butterbeer at our disposal."

"And an Alchemist would be nice for some pranks," George added.

Oh.

"Oh, it's nice and toasty," Ron moaned, as Madam Rosmerta brought him a cup. "Thank you!" He looked around at the professors and Minister Fudge. "Hey, what are all of you doing here?"

Professor McGonagall gave off a polite cough. "Excuse me, Mr. Weasley, but we're in the middle of the conversation."

"Can I join in?"

There was a stark silence at this.

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Weasley," Minister Fudge looked pointedly away. "This isn't a matter for prying ears."

In his woozy state, Ron did his best to look affronted. "I'll have you know I'm _excellent_ at keeping secrets! I managed to keep a big secret from my brothers for…" Ron slowly counted on his fingers, almost missing one. "Six months!"

"Quite." Fudge got up. "Thank you, Rosmerta, but Crouch has required my assistance for a certain matter. I must bid you good-bye."

Professors McGonagall and Flitwick quickly said their goodbyes as well, looking at Ron with a mixture of trepidation and disgust.

Hagrid nudged Ron, nearly making him fall over. "Get t' the castle," Hagrid murmured over to him. "You look plenty tired."

Ron nodded, before catching himself. "Yeah, I should," Ron said. "But Har-"

"Ron!" Hermione leaped out from behind the tree, a large and plastic smile on her face. "Where have you been?"

Ron yawned. "I… I dunno. It was bad for a bit, then better… then I got cold."

"Hullo, Hermione," Hagrid leaned down to whisper in Hermione's ear. Since Hagrid was so massive, this was an exercise in futility for anyone listening in. "Now look, Hermione, no matter what ya heard about Harry's parents, ya _shouldn't _him about it."

Hermione clasped her hands, looking deeply concerned. "Of course, Hagrid," she said solemnly. "I won't say a thing."

"That's good," Hagrid clapped Hermione's back. "Now, make sure that Ron gets up to the castle safely, alright?"

Hermione nodded. "We'll be right up." She cast a few drying charms on Ron, and soon she helped his wobbling form out of the tavern.

Hagrid wiped his brow. "Tha' was close," Hagrid muttered. Then he stood still for a few seconds before he walked around to the back of the tree, where they were all sitting. Harry froze in place.

"Hello, Hagrid!" Fred jauntily waved at him. "How are you doing, fine chap?"

"I'm doin' fine, thank ye," Hagrid smiled. "You… you didn't hear what we were sayin', right?"

Fred and George looked at each other, before back at Hagrid. "Hear what you were saying? No, I don't think we heard anything - right, George?"

"Righto, Fred."

Neville did his best not to look guilty.

Hagrid looked suspicious. "Well… alrigh', then." Hagrid waved, leaving the Three Broomsticks.

Harry slowly crept up from underneath the table.

"So, Harry, what _were_ they talking about?"

Harry was silent.

"They were talking about Black," Neville started saying. "About how he kept Harry's Mum and Dad safe…"

"Until he sold them out." There was no other explanation - Voldemort had found his parents somehow, and Black, the Secret-Keeper, was on his side. "He let them die!"

Harry ground his teeth as Fred and George looked at him, disturbed.

"Er, Harry - you're sparking-"

"Like I care." Harry snapped, glaring at them, before putting on the Invisibility Cloak. "No one cares about the 'secret' but Ron. Let _everyone_ know! Then maybe someone won't be caught off-guard the next time their world is upended!"

Smaller arcs of electricity started jumping back and forth across his skin.

"And you know what?!" He bit out. "Neville can keep your map!" Harry threw the Map, which was in his pocket, at Neville. He caught it a wide-eyed, fearful stare.

Harry started stomping away in an indignant huff. As he walked, he felt that chilling aura - the one that belonged to the Dementors - crawl up his spine. He shivered, before shrugging it off. There was a blizzard swirling around him, anyway.

The diary, the amulet, the map… all of it could go to sod off. The amulet turned Ron into an obsessed loon, the map was _Wormtail's_ creation (and _he_ could go die in a hole), and the less said about Voldemort's cursed diary, the better.

The wandering of Harry's feet didn't lead him to Honeydukes, though - instead, it brought him to a dilapidated shack in the woods, with a piece of plank wood swinging precariously.

Harry, exhausted from the day's events, decided to sit down and rest his weary legs for a spell. This little cottage… it had to be the Shrieking Shack, didn't it? The most heavily haunted building in Britain.

As the blizzard swirled around him, Harry's blood grew colder and colder, and he started shivering violently, his anger ebbing away a little. His lips started turning blue, and as the shivering grew more violent, his anger practically disappeared.

After all, with the could practically eating his soul away, it was hard to think of anger and revenge.

Harry tried to get up but stumbled over himself.

"I… no… what?"

Then something strange happened. Harry stopped shivering, and the cloak fell off him. He felt… warm. Like a nice, soothing presence wrapped its way around him, embracing him in a protective blanket. Though he was surrounded by a wall of ice and (probably) dying, he felt at peace.

Heh… now that it felt so nice, why didn't he make snow angels? Those would look nice…

Harry made little angels on the ground. They looked sweet. Then Harry had a great idea - why not turn into a Shinx and make little Shinx angels?

With a large burst of light, Harry turned into a Shinx - and then everything hit him, as he exploded into the chattering of jaws and the shivering of teeth.

Ron! This was how Ron was - he was in the blizzard for a shorter length, but Ron turned stupid too! Harry had to get out of the cold, and _fast_!

Harry started trudging through the snow to the Shrieking Shack. It wasn't good - it was practically falling apart - but it was better than nothing, and it close enough for him to get to.

With a final push of effort, Harry pushed himself through one of the cracks and arrived in the Shrieking Shack. His eyes widened - it was surprisingly warm, leagues better than the howling storm outside.

Harry shook himself, getting rid of all the snow that had stuck on his fur. Then, with a small _pop_, he transformed back into his normal human form, and the strength of the cold multiplied. Harry began shivering violently again.

But he was still shivering, and he wasn't stupid. He'd get as warm as he could - maybe build a small fire with magic - then, when he was feeling strong enough, high-tail it to Honeydukes before they closed.

Harry found a couple of dry pieces of wood - thankfully, a few were lying around here and there - found a good patch of ground, levitated a few rocks from outside to form a fire pit, and lit it ablaze.

The fire soon started thawing his insides, and Harry began to (slowly) feel better. It would be better if he stayed here like this, at least for a while. He'd assuage their worries later.

For now… he had to keep warm…

…

…

Harry was feeling rather tired, and with a belly full of butterbeer and a heart tired of emotions, he decided that it might be good to take a small rest.

* * *

Harry woke up several hours later, as the sun was setting outside (though the blizzard had yet to abate even an inch). His arm and legs were feeling rather stiff, and his stomach felt like it had for most of his life.

Harry peeled himself off the ground, shrugging off the blanket that… why was there a blanket? He stared at the piece of cloth in his hands. He was alone in the Shrieking Shack… right?

Harry's hand plunged into the pocket of his robes to grasp his wand, only to realize it wasn't there. He started digging around in his other pockets, but it was nowhere. He longer had his wand.

Harry was sure he had kept his wand safe - he had used it to start the fire and nothing else. Afterward, he put it into his pockets to that it would dry out a little bit, but…

But…

Harry looked at his robes more closely - they weren't _his_ robes! Someone had changed his clothes when he was asleep! Was it Peeves? Phoebe? The twins - no, if it was the twins, they'd do it to his face (he assumed, they never aimed for him before).

"Is anyone there?!" Harry called out, eyes darting around. There was no response - the Shack was as quiet as it had ever been.

Still, he was only in one of its rooms, and no footprints were leading from the shack. They could have used a broom… but Harry wasn't quite ready to give up just yet.

Harry put on slightly soggy shoes and started walking up the stairs of the shack. The stairs creaked loudly as Harry crept up, making sure not to step on any of the upturned nails that jutted from the floorboards. He had punctured his foot once, stepping on a nail, and it wasn't something he'd like to repeat.

Once he arrived at the top floor, he squinted, finding it rather hard to see. Harry desperately wished he had his wand so that he could light it. As of now, all he could do was get closer to look at the man.

Though, once he did, Harry wished he didn't.

A pale, gaunt face bored into him - one that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ and mugshots on wanted posters scattered everywhere in the wizarding world. The only wizard to ever break out of Azkaban.

Sirius Black.

* * *

"No, Mum, I _don't_ need a new hair clip. The old one looks just fine."

Sable's mother sniffed, pulling up a new dress. "Well, you need something new for Archibald's wedding, don't you?"

Sable groaned. "Do I _really_? This is his fourth wedding-"

"Third!"

"Third! He's already had two weddings, Mum! Nobody cares about anyone's _third_ wedding!"

"It doesn't _matter_ if it's his third wedding or his thirtieth!" Sable's mother snapped back. "You must look presentable and interesting - and you should look like you have more than _three_ dresses."

Sable coughed, a little dust falling into her throat. "Then can we at least go buy one, and get out of this God-forsaken attic?!"

"We don't have the money for that, Sable." Mum reminded her. "So we'll make do with what we have. Now keep searching - you'll find one of your grandmother's dresses wearable eventually."

They were _all_ wearable - a couple of piles back there was one that Sable felt complemented her complexion. But Mum took _one _look at it and decided that it may as well be garbage.

Sable finished the last pile with a groan. "Well, Mum, we've gone through every single pile or dresses, and none of them work. Can I _please_ just wear what I wore last year since it still fits?"

Mum sniffed. "Find some jewelry. My mother collects buckets of it, and they're just going to waste here."

"Really, Mum?"

Mum shot her a _look_. "Get on it, Sable. The wedding is _tomorrow_ \- we have to find something fast."

Sable sighed. "Fine," she surrendered before she pushed away all of the dresses and pulled a few boxes of jewelry to her. She pulled out a small bejeweled necklace. "What about this?"

"Tacky. Try something else."

"This bangle?"

Mum coughed, her cheeks dusting. "That - that old thing? It was mine. I thought I'd thrown it out…"

"Looks like Grandma dug it out of the rubbish, then." Sable tried slipping it on before Mum ripped it from her hands.

"I'd… prefer you didn't put it on," Mum pocketed it. "I'll dispose of it properly this time."

Sable huffed. "You're so picky," she complained.

"Keep looking." Mum instead ordered.

Sable rolled her eyes. "A bangle is nothing to be embarrassed about, Mum." Sable went back to the pile. "What about this?" She pulled out a locket.

Mum brightened up. "I remember that! She said Dad gave that to her on one of their dates! She had been looking for this forever" She grabbed it from Sable's hands. "Sable, I'll be up in a minute - I have to go show this the Grandma, she'll _love _that we found it!" Mum raced out of the attic, leaving Sable alone.

Sable turned back to the pile. "This is taking _forever_," she complained to herself. But with nothing else to do, she started looking through the piles of jewelry.

Hairpins, chokers, and earrings were all thrown away for various reasons, though Sable was motivated to find something, for a reason she couldn't quite identify. It was almost as if there was something in the pile of forgotten jewelry calling to her… begging her to put it on.

Then, in one of the corners of one of the boxes, she found it.

A small ring - it looked to fit the girth of her fingers - glinted, slightly dusty but no worse for the wear. Sable picked it up, before rubbing it on her shirt.

After a small polishing, she looked at it again and gasped. It looked… _amazing_. With a small garnet inside and mirror-like gold plating, it looked positively stunning.

Sable tentatively slipped the ring on - and a large shock ran through her body. Almost with a _snap_, the ring fit snugly around her finger, giving off a nice warm feeling.

"Sable?" That was her mother!

Sable quickly stuffed her hand into one of her pockets, so that they couldn't see the ring. Sable didn't know why… but she had the strangest desire to keep the ring a secret.

"Yeah, Mum?" Sable answered, turning around to greet her. "I've just been looking around-"

"And making a complete mess of my precious jewels!" Grandma called, slowly getting up the stairs herself. "Look at the mess you've made!"

"Ah…" Sable looked around at the jewelry strewn about. "Sorry about that, Grandma. I'll clean it up right now."

Sable walked to the piles of jewelry and knelt. Then she realized something.

She'd have to bring out her hands to clean up the piles of jewelry, and she couldn't take the ring off with one finger. She'd spent the good part of thirty seconds trying.

"Well, get on with it," Grandma snapped.

"Mum, don't you-"

"Isabelle, don't you dare help her." Grandma snapped. "This is something Sable should take care of. I didn't raise you to let other people take care of your messes, and you shouldn't raise her like this either."

Mum pursed her lips but said nothing.

No matter how hard Sable pushed with her thumb, the ring wouldn't come off. Sable knew that if she could get a little bit of olive oil she would be able to slide it right off, but she didn't have any right now.

With a sigh, Sable decided to get it over with and pulled her hands out of her pockets.

And stared.

The ring was still on her finger - she _felt_ its weight. But it was invisible - her hands looked as plain as they always had.

"Sable, we don't have all day!"

Sable jolted out of her little trance and got straight to work, quickly sorting the jewelry into the categories they had been in and piling them back into the box.

"There," she said, wiping her brow of the nervous sweat that had piled on it. "No more."

Grandma walked up to the box. "Hmm… good work," she finally said. "Though, I can't help but feel that _something_ is missing." Grandma started looking through the piles of jewelry, then gasped. "It's gone!"

Sable froze. "W-What's gone?"

"The ring!" Grandma started digging through the piles with an almost religious fervor. "It's gone!"

"What ring?" Mum asked, bemused.

"The ring my grandfather gave me when I was little," Grandma snapped. "It was plunder from an ancient pyramid in Egypt! It was priceless, and now it's _gone!_"

Sable gasped.

The ring was an ancient Egyptian treasure?

Mum tried to calm Grandma down. "Please don't worry, we'll find it soon."

"We'd better - that ring is blessed," Grandma said.

Sable's eyes widened. "Blessed?"

Grandma looked over at her. "Blessed with good luck - things just seem to go right when it's on," she said. "I've never had a bad day when I've worn that ring, and things just seem to work out."

"Good luck doesn't exist-"

"Oh, and I bet you think magic doesn't exist either!" Grandma snapped. "You and your new age _science_ can't even come close to understanding the true nature of the world!"

Mum sighed. "Sable, go find the ring. I have work to do below." With an irritated huff, Mum climbed out of the attic.

As Grandma continued to dig through the piles, Sable realized something. Magic… Sable didn't know why, but her ring was currently invisible.

Sable brought the ring to her face and made a fervent wish for it to become visible again.

In a small shimmer, the ring came into her eyes' vision.

Magic was _real_!

"Sable, help me find the ring!"

Sable quickly stuffed her hand into her pockets again, then remembered that she could just make the ring invisible. She brought her hands out on began 'looking for the ring'.

Still, what was she going to do? No way was Sable going to get rid of a _magic_ ring - this was something she dreamed about! But Grandma wanted the ring too - how was going to give a ring to Grandma?

Then a few seconds later, Sable felt something weird settle in her stomach, as something _changed_. She couldn't quite place it, but…

… hold on… why was the ring in her hand?

Sable withdrew her hand from the pile and stared at the ring. Wait… no, it was a copy - the _real _ring was still snug around her finger.

More magic!

"Grandma, I found the ring!" Grandma's head snapped up, as Sable presented the ring to her. "It was hidden inside one of the lockets!"

Grandma frowned. "What…"

Please believe her, please believe her…

Grandma held a hand to her temple. "Hidden inside one of the lockets?"

Sable nodded. "It was hidden inside one of the lockets." She impressed upon Grandma.

Then that strange feeling, of something _changing_ about the world, returned. Grandma's eyes went out of focus for a second.

"Hidden inside one of the lockets…" Grandma's eyes snapped to focus. "Of course - how could I have missed it!"

How did that work?! All she had told Grandma was what she wanted her to believe, and she fell for it without resistance.

Then she realized.

She could use Jedi mind tricks!

And now she had a wonderfully devious idea.

"You will give me the ring," Sable intoned, waving a hand over Grandma's face. "You think the ring looks good on me and that I deserve to keep it."

"I… what…" There was resistance… but Sable could feel it slipping. Grandma wasn't as sharp as she used to be.

"You will give me the ring. You think the ring looks good on me and that I deserve to keep it."

"I… will…" The cost was greater for the trick this time around, but Sable knew it was working.

"You will give me the ring. You think the ring looks good on me and that I deserve to keep it."

"I will… give you the ring… I… think… the ring… looks good… on you… and that you… deserve… to keep it?"

"You will give me the ring. You think the ring looks good on me and that I deserve to keep it."

Then it snapped, and Grandma's eyes went fully-unfocused. "I will give you the ring. I think the ring looks good on you and that you deserve to keep it."

"You will give me the ring. You think the ring looks good on me and that I deserve to keep it."

"I will give you the ring. I think the ring looks good on you and that you deserve to keep it." There was more resolve in the sentence now.

"You will give me the ring. You think the ring looks good on me and that I deserve to keep it."

"I will give you the ring. I think the ring looks good on you and that you deserve to keep it."

_*Snap*_

Grandma blinked quickly, her eyes coming into focus. "Wh… what just happened?"

"You wanted to give me the ring, right?" As Sable talked, Grandma's lips mirrored the words she had been chanting earlier.

Grandma blinked owlishly, before looking at the fake ring. "Did I… ?" Grandma stared at the ring, and Sable could feel the two different urges - that to keep her precious ring and to give it to Sable - go to war. "I will… give you… the ring." Grandma slowly dropped the ring into Sable's hands.

"Thank you, Grandma!" Sable slipped the fake ring on. "See how good the ring looks on me?"

"Yes… the ring looks good on you, dear… you deserve to keep it…" Grandma shook her head. "I… dear, I need to go down. My head hurts for some strange reason."

"Don't think about it too hard, Grandma," Sable advised. "You just need to lie down a bit." That last word was said with mind-trick powers.

Grandma's eyes went unfocused for a second. "Yes… I need to lie down a bit." Grandma climbed out of the attic, groaning a little at the exertion.

Sable was silent, before collapsing.

"That… was exhausting," she said, tired.

But it had worked - she could now control minds a little. It was tough - especially when making someone do something they didn't want to do - but she could do it.

"Sable?" Mum climbed up the stairs. "Are you ready to keep looking?"

Oh, right - that stupid wedding.

"Mum, Grandma gave me her ring," Sable explained. "We don't need to keep looking."

"Really? Can I take a look at it?" Sable passed Mum the fake ring, inspecting it. "You know, we _could _sell this for a lot of money…"

"Sure!" Sable quickly agreed, making her Mum stare. It wasn't the _real_ ring, so Sable didn't care anyway. "Can you give me it, Mum?" Sable held her hand out. "I want to try and sell it myself." She could bargain harder for the ring, then - she had the mind trick up her sleeve now.

Mum frowned. "No, sweetie, I don't think-"

"You will give me the ring. You will forget that you wanted to sell it."

Mum wasn't as hard as Grandma was. With a few repetitions, Mum readily gave her the fake ring.

"Well, Mum, since I'll wear the ring to the wedding, I don't need a dress, do I?"

Mum looked worried, biting her lip. "I don't know…"

Sable decided to compromise. "Here - how about this one?" She pulled out a dress from earlier - one she actually liked.

"Sable, that dress-"

"You like this dress. This dress looks _amazing_ on me," Sable decided to go full power on this one stressing the _amazing_ part with all of her might and magic. "This is the one."

Maybe Mum was weaker from earlier because she immediately went under. "I like this dress. This dress looks amazing on you. This is the one."

Mum was still under, so Sable (a little woozy from the magic and tricks, but still able to move) put the dress on.

"You like this dress. This dress looks amazing on me. This is the one." After impressing it one last time, Sable snapped her fingers.

Mum blinked - then gasped in delight. "Oh my, _Sable_!" she started gushing. "Look at you! This _has_ to be what you wear to the wedding!"

Sable smirked. "I know."

And as Mum started walking downstairs, ready to show off Sable and her new dress to the world, Sable smiled.

"This is going to be _great_."

* * *

And a week later, it arrived.

A letter, delivered by owl, for the ten-year-old Sable. An invitation, to a school of magic.

Hogwarts.

* * *

**For once, we have a (mostly) Harry chapter. For the most part, he's been unaffected by Ron's shenanigans and has had very little impact on the story as a whole. Since the universe revolves around him, I'll try to include him a bit more (not necessarily Hermione, though that's mostly because I have no idea what to do with her. There's both so much she can provide and yet so little this early on in the series that distinguishes her character from a plot device. Crookshanks never came with her, so that plotline doesn't exist).**

**Both Harry and Ron have gotten karmic snowstorms for being snotty, angsty teenagers that generally get angry at people around them for reasons semi-unrelated to the actual people involved. Take of that what you will. I'm just hoping I didn't write Fred and George as 'forgiving' Ron too quickly.**

**Now... who is Sable? Does this mysterious ring from Egypt have anything to do with Anima? How was Sable able to do the things she just did?**

**Be sure to tune in next time for the answers (maybe) of some of these questions!**

**Be sure to fav, follow, and review!**

**See you later!**


	10. Attempted Assassination

Harry slowly walked to Black's slumbering body. His chest rose and fell with the blowing of the flurries outside. As Harry looked at Black's gaunt face, he felt a sinking pit in his stomach.

This was Black. _Black_. The wizard who had escaped from Azkaban. The man who had let his parents die, selling them to Voldemort. The man who pretended to be his father's best friend.

And he was just _laying _there, without a care in the world. Harry's wand was tucked under him - Black was the one who took it from him.

Had Black tried to kill him? Maybe Black had cast an evil blanket-suffocating curse on him after taking his wand. Were there any blanket-suffocating curses?

Harry didn't know how long he stood there. He knew he had to get his wand back - that was easily the most important thing right now - but if Black woke up before he could wrestle it from under Black's grip, Harry _would_ die.

Maybe he could get a Professor to help - they were stronger than him, weren't they? Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort feared - surely Black would fear him too.

But what if Black woke up, and took Harry's wand with him? Then they would be back at square one, except that now Harry wouldn't have a wand.

And if Black woke up, then Harry would have to face him directly - and while he had faced worse odds before, he didn't particularly like risking his life time and time again. And he didn't have a Fawkes and sword to protect him this time, nor did he have burning skin. He didn't even have his wand back (yet) so if Black woke up, all he could rely on was his Anima form.

Unless he wanted to mildly shock Black (the double meaning not escaping Harry even now), it wouldn't help much.

Harry took a deep breath, trying desperately to calm his nerves. Occlumency, Occlumeny… he _had _to get his wand back. Then he would have the advantage, and maybe even take his revenge.

But how was he going to get it back? Any way to get it back without magic involved something that could wake Black up. Harry could only barely see his wand peeking out of the space between Black's back and the floorboards, which means that Black would have to be moved no matter what he did, risking him waking up. Harry couldn't go under Black either - breaking the floorboards under him would wake him up.

All Harry could do was wait for something - _anything_ \- to give him an opening to go get the wand.

"Gruuuuuughhhhh…" Then Black shifted around a little bit, and the wand became a little looser. Harry's eyes widened - nevermind, he had a chance _now_!

Harry, creeping silently, went over to Black's side. Even as Black was groaning in pain in his sleep, Harry made sure not to make a single sound. He gingerly crouched, took a deep breath, and closed his fingers around the shaft of his wand.

Inch by inch, he slowly pushed the wand out beneath Black. With half of a wand to go, Harry was sure that he could pull his wand out safely.

Then, from the ceiling, a single snowflake fluttered down and landed on his neck. Harry unconsciously shivered - and that, perhaps, changed everything.

The vibration was enough, _just enough_, to jostle Black a little. Black's eyes shot wide open, and he grabbed Harry's arm before he could Harry could react.

Perhaps it was Black's grip on his arm, perhaps it was the snowflake. Either way, something caused Harry to arch his back like a cat, and then turn into one. Blue fur sprouted all over his skin, and his body shrunk to match. Soon, he was back as his Shinx form. With a powerful electric shock, he forced Black to release him.

"Graaagh!" Black whipped his sizzling hand away from Harry, who took the opportunity to pounce. Now Black didn't have a wand, and Harry had both his wand and his Anima.

Black, though, was quick on the uptake, dodging the pounce with ease. Harry landed on the ground in front of Black and, whipping around, turned to pounce again.

But Black was ever ready for him - in a swift movement, he sidestepped the pounce again, before catching the jumping Harry by the scruff his neck. Harry swung around in Black's hand, his legs and paws useless against the mass murderer.

"What the hell… that's no Animagus I've ever seen…" Black seemed amazed. Harry responded with a powerful electric shock, sending ars of electricity flying up Black's skin. Black cursed, dropping Harry like a stone. Harry landed on his feet and twisted in place. Then, considering his options, he turned back into a person.

Harry pointed his wand straight at Black, but no words would come to his mouth. The only dueling spell he knew was _Expelliarmus_, and fat good that was.

"What's the matter, Harry," Black crooned mockingly. "What are you waiting for? You've read the papers, you know what I've been charged for. Aren't you going to attack? Don't know any battling spells?" Black tutted. "Your father would have been-"

"_Reducto!_" Harry cried, the spell falling from his lips like grains of sand. Black simply raised a piece of a plank in front of him, which absorbed the curse and exploded into arcs of lightning instead of the miserable man.

"Better," he said dryly. "But not enough. Try again."

Harry's eyes flashed. "'Better'? 'Not enough'? Is this all some sort of _GAME_ to you?! _Baubillius_!"

A jet of white sparks followed a small bolt of electricity, erupted from Harry's wand. Black whistled as he sidestepped the attack.

"Ah, this is good practice. But I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short, Harry." Black slowly walked to Harry.

"_Reduct-_" Harry couldn't get the spell off before Black Walked right up to him and punched him square in the nose. Harry's hands flew to his face, just in time to let Black sucker punch him in the stomach.

"Harry, have you ever been in an actual fight?" Harry had, but only against Dudley, who only really wailed on him. Black's attacks were much more precise and hard-hitting, and Black clearly knew where to hit.

Then Black kneed him in the groin, and Harry collapsed in pain, dropping his wand. Black casually strolled over and picked up the dropped wand. Harry tried to summon the strength for another transformation, but it wouldn't come to him - instead, all he could do was struggle as Black pointed the wand at him.

"Sorry for this, Harry, but I need a wand more than you do. _Stupefy_!"

* * *

Sirius watched dispassionately as Harry stopped struggling and fell unconscious. He didn't like the idea of using a dueling spell on James' son in an actual battle, but Harry was trying to kill him, so he felt it necessary.

As Harry's unconscious body laid still on the ground, Sirius sat down, a little tired. He wasn't as compatible with Harry's wand as he liked, so the reasonably complex Stunning Spell was a little costly. Taking a few minutes to breathe, he looked at Harry's prone form.

Harry reminded him of James, in the most painful of ways. His appearance, his bravado, his intellect, and his instincts - if this _was_ Harry's first legitimate duel then Sirius could hardly say he wasn't impressed.

Sirius walked over to Harry and sat him upright. Harry's head lolled as Sirius considered him. The rat was the priority, but it wasn't as if Sirius could leave him here… not that he could let him escape. This was the only place he could reliably access Hogwarts with, as the path behind the mirror had caved in and the one from Honeydukes had, well, Honeydukes over it. Sirius couldn't move, not until he had murdered Pettigrew.

Still… maybe…

Then Sirius thought of the smarter solution - Obliviation. After all, Harry couldn't squeal if he didn't know what _to_ squeal. Sirius could just remove his memories of the Shrieking Shack - no, his memories of even _coming_ to the Shrieking Shack.

Sirius put Harry down and prepared to cast the spell. But before he did, he noticed the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's face. Then he decided to make another decision.

"_Legilimens_!" Not a preferred spell, but one that would get the job done. Sirius searched around in Harry's semi-organized (had Harry been practicing Occlumency? If so, he needed to get better at it) mind, looking for any information on _what_ exactly Harry had transformed into.

Then Sirius was hit with a cavalcade of information. Shinx, Anima, amulet, Phoebe, scroll, Malfoy, _Wormtail_…

Sirius blinked, absorbing the information.

To think - a completely different kind of self-transformation existed, apart from the Animagus transformation and self-transfiguration. Electricity, 'psychic powers' (whatever _those_ were), fire, the list went on.

And _Wormtail_ involved himself in the thick of it, manipulating the Weasley into that ambush to give the amulet to Malfoy. Pettigrew didn't want it, but he didn't want the Weasley boy or Harry to have it either - instead, he gave it to Malfoy, another Death Eater, who was currently bandying it about without regards for subtlety whatsoever.

Still, it was nothing more than idle curiosity. Turning into an Anima seemed fun, but they couldn't help him get to Pettigrew, not more than his Animagus form could. Pettigrew had secured himself in Gryffindor Tower, and Sirius couldn't sneak in there undetected, for long enough to exact his revenge. Without the password, Sirius couldn't get in. If he had the Map, he could have sneaked in through a side passage, and with the cloak, he could have simply waited for someone to open the door for him, but without either he could do neither.

Then Sirius remembered something - long ago, James had entrusted the cloak to Dumbledore for safekeeping, since he didn't want You-Know-Who getting his evil hands on the heirloom. Dumbledore probably had it - no, he couldn't go after his office without the Map, which Filch had taken from them in the seventh-

Sirius smacked himself, before looking outside. It had taken him _this long_ to think of taking the Map back from Filch - he had wasted over five months looking for the right opportunity when he could have just snuck in Filch's office and have been done with the matter.

Still, he had to go all the way there, which put him at risk of being seen. Sirius had a wand now, which meant he could fight back, but he'd prefer not to be seen by anyone.

Wait… no, he had a wand now! He could summon the Map - no need to keep on sneaking around!

"_Accio_ Marauder's Map!" He cried, feeling the tug of magic that was bringing the Map to him. The Sirius felt something constantly bumping his back. Turning around, he saw very little before the Map plastered itself on his face.

"Urgh!" Sirius pulled the Map off, looking at it. It was practically vibrating with pleasure, reunited with one of its creators. Sirius looked to where it came from - one of Harry's pockets. "Excellent job, Harry!" With this, he could sneak into the Headmaster's office and collect the Cloak…

… unless…

As the flash of intuition hit him, Sirius approached Harry, before digging around in his other pockets. He found some Honeydukes candy (which Sirius quickly took and ate, the smell reminding him of his constant hunger) and… the Cloak.

…

Sirius could _kiss_ Harry right now. It would be a little weird, but Sirius felt something that he hadn't for over twelve years. Joy.

Sirius caressed the Cloak, feeling the way it felt on his hands. The memories he had… sneaking out with James to prank Snivellus… going with the rest of the Marauders to hang out with Moony… flying up the staircase on brooms to peep on girls… everything he had missed.

Everything that _Wormtail_ tore away from him.

"_Obliviate_," Sirius whispered, the memories of the past thirty minutes fading from Harry's mind. All that Harry would wonder now waws why the Cloak and Map were missing - that, and why his best friend's rat was 'missing'. Sirius then cast a Disillusionment Charm on Harry, so that no one would see anything weird if they saw them traveling across the school grounds.

Then, lifting Harry on his shoulder, Sirius started walking. In an hour's time, he had made it from the Shrieking Shack to the Whomping Willow. After levitating a stick to hit the knob on the tree, Sirius was finally back on the school grounds, after so many months.

"_Dashing through the snow~_" Sirius's eyes widened, and he cast the Invisibility Cloak over himself. The dark and the Disillusionment Charm would protect him from the sight of whoever was singing.

"_In a one-horse open sleigh~ O'er the fields we go~ Laughing all the way~_" It wasn't a song he was familiar with - they must be foreign or Muggleborns.

Three children stepped into view, two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw who was shaking her head at her friends' drunken antics.

"Hey, Shynthia," one of them slurred. "You're a great shingerr, try a coupla linesh!"

"If I do, do you promise to stop drinking?"

"Mayyyyyyyybe?"

The Ravenclaw coughed. "Well, if I remember what you've been singing _nonstop_ correctly… _Bells on bob-tail ring~ Making spirits bright~ What fun it is to laugh and sing A sleighing song tonight~_"

"There ya go," one of the Hufflepuffs cheered, taking a swig from a bottle. "We'll make Sheleshtina Warbeck out of ya yet!"

The Ravenclaw vanished the bottle out of her friend's hand. The friend groaned. "Really, Shynthia?"

The Ravenclaw, Cynthia shrugged. "You said you'd stop drinking. I making sure you follow up on that little promise of yours." The other two groaned, but said nothing and followed the Ravenclaw past where Sirius and the unconscious Harry were hiding.

Once they passed, Sirius let out a breath - then held it again, as Cynthia turned around, narrowing her eyes.

"What ish it, Shynthia?"

Cynthia scanned the area, and Sirius gripped his wand tight. If he was forced to, he would fight here, but right now he wanted to save his strength for Wormtail, not these brats.

"... nothing. I think I misheard something." Cynthia turned around again, and this time Sirius waited for a much longer time before letting go of his breath. That girl had the ears of a bat.

"... look at the Mudbloods!" Oh, come _on! _Was he going to have to wait the whole night before he could get into the castle with Harry? "All drunken and stupid… if only the Sorting Hat had a house for those that don't deserve to be here."

Malfoy, for the boy's voice matched what Sirius had heard in Harry's memories, was swaggering up through the path with his two goons, making and laughing at his own crude jokes. The other two laughed two, though if they were as smart as their fathers they wouldn't know why.

And while Sirius' blood boiled at the thought of the sons of Death Eaters mocking other wizards, he stood silent and said nothing. It wasn't the place to make brats shut up about things they thought they knew about, things that they were _wrong_ about. That could wait until his name cleared until _Peter_ was dead and the corpse of his rat form snug in his grasp.

Sirius wait for a while, and it looked like Malfoy and his little _friends_ would leave. But then, of all things… the little _**** _noticed his footprints. He. Forgot. To Mask. His. _Footprints_.

James must be rolling in his grave.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and slowed down - though, his followers either didn't see the footprints or didn't care as they ignored Malfoy and kept on going.

"Footprints…" Malfoy's eyes started trailing where the prints in the snow went - up to where Sirius was. Sirius used a touch of Legilimency to see what the boy was thinking, just to see if he wanted to follow the prints, then quickly cast a nonverbal spell.

_Silencio_!

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, but Sirius, having predicted it, forced to sound to leave his mouth. Malfoy's eyes widened, and he whirled around to call to his 'bodyguard', whipping out his wand as well.

But it was too late - before the goons had even noticed that the boy they were supposed to be guarding had fallen behind, Sirius cast a quick Stunning Spell at the boy, dropping him to the floor. Then, for good measure, he stunned the other two as well, before they caught on from the thumps in the snow.

Well, it wasn't likely that they'd figure it out anyway - a quick scan of their mind showed they didn't even register Malfoy for the last ten seconds of their trip - more than enough time for him to get the drop on them without them realizing it.

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief and readjusted the disillusioned Harry, who was still hoisted on his shoulder. His nerves were too raised - he was jumpy, too much so. Azkaban did more than give him a disgusting makeover, after all - and if he made any mistake now, if he botched up the assassination tonight, if he fought too many people on the way there and raised the alarm or exhausted himself, Peter would have more than enough time to escape.

He had to keep _everything_ under wraps - and these Slytherin brats more than deserved hypothermia, he'd know. Sirius stepped forward (after moving some snow around with magic to mask his footsteps from any other students returning from Hogsmeade, don't want a repeat of _this _debacle), ready to kill Peter.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something. Glinting from under Malfoy's lapel was a golden chain - one that Sirius knew led to the amulet. One that Sirius knew was at least somewhat dangerous.

Sirius briefly considered the pros and cons of taking the amulet, then reasoned that since he was going to kill the Weasley boy's 'rat', he might as well give him something in exchange for it. He wasn't _heartless_ \- and anyway, it was only going to take a second.

Sirius knelt down and pulled the chain from Malfoy's neck. It was rather pretty. Sirius put the amulet in his pocket, then got up, firing another bright red stunner at Malfoy to make sure he didn't wake up anytime soon. Then, for good measure, he disillusioned the three Slytherins to make sure no one saw them.

Sirius stood up and rolled his shoulders. _Now_ was the time to go after Wormtail.

"_Finite Incantatem_!"

"Ugh, that's _it_!" Without even pausing for breath, Sirius whipped around and fired a _Bombarda_ at where the spell came from. The caster - Cynthia, that Ravenclaw from earlier, leaped away, as the words for another spell danced on her lips.

_Depulso!_

Before her spell - whatever it was - could escape her wand, Sirius banished Harry's body at her. The girl flicked her wand, and Hary's body dropped to the floor ungracefully.

"Who are you?" The girl narrowed her eyes at where Sirius was standing. "I won't take a kidnapper lightly."

Sirius had enough of this. He quickly turned into a dog, hoping to shock her enough to get the jump on her. He leaped for her wand.

"_Impedimenta!_" Frozen mid-leap, Sirius glared at the girl, before turning back into a person, the cloak still on like all other clothes. Quickly, he flicked a Stunner at her, which she batted away easily.

This girl had the skill, much more than Harry or those pathetic Slytherins had. She probably joined a dueling club in the past, considering her ease on the battlefield.

But no matter how talented or skilled she might be, Sirius had more than enough experience to back up a counterattack.

"_Legilimens!_" An application of the spell Dumbledore taught him - by attacking an opponent's mind, you could figure out their next move easily and figure out the correct counterattack. Attack and preemptive defense, prevent the opponent from making a valuable move in the game of chess.

But then Sirius ran into Occlumency barriers, and her eyes flashed. "Legilimency?!" She shouted, firing back with her own probe.

Sirius blocked it, but with difficulty, as he was panicking a little. Oh, he'd surely _win_, but unless he thought of something fast, the whole school would be alerted.

Sirius then had a particularly stupid idea and ran at Cynthia with his free hand cocked into a punch, throwing off the cloak as he did so.

"_Impedi-_"

Sirius vertically banished Harry's body, so that it would fly up, towards Cynthia, rather than away. Cynthia dodged, but she paused in her incantation for a split second - and that was all Sirius needed.

"_Stupefy_!" The Stunner hit her square on, fired from a few feet away. She toppled over backward, unconscious. Sirius nearly fell, but then steeled himself, throwing the cloak on again and transforming into a dog. He had done three duels in the span of two hours, and he was feeling exhausted, but he had to do it _now_. Cynthia had Occlumency, so he couldn't Obliviate her, and she saw his Animagus form. Any advantage he had would be ripped from him past tonight.

Already, people were coming to see the commotion in the front grounds. Sirius loped forward, startling the various students. He was faster this way. He ran up the school's hallways and corridors, startling many different portraits. None of them mattered, he _had _to get to Peter _now_!

Sir Cadogan the Stupid blocked his path - but there were several students standing there as well, ready to open the door. Sirius didn't bother waiting and instead transformed back into a human.

_Legilimens_!

He ripped through the student's mind and found the password. "Bunchimunchi!" He croaked. The portrait swung forward before any of the students could even begin to react. All of the older year students, returning from Hogsmeade, were still in the common room. All except Ron and the rat.

"What - what just happened?" One of the students that had been about to go into the common room asked, bewildered. "Who said that?"

Sirius cursed - for some reason, Peter wasn't here! Sirius fled to a corner of the common room, away from all of the other students, and quickly unfolded the map.

_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good!_

The dotted lines indicating people in the castle appeared on the map. Sirius tore through the map, looking for where Peter was. Half a minute later, Sirius found him - next to Ron and many, many others in the hospital wing. Protected by numbers.

It didn't matter, Sirius would get to him _now_.

_Mischief Managed_.

After wiping and refolding the map, Sirius opened the door again. "Who goes there!" Sir Cadogan cried, not seeing anyone appear. Sirius ignored him as well and started running as fast as he could to get to Peter.

On his way there, it seemed that everything was an obstacle. A gaggle of girls blocking the hallway and chatting about Hogsmeade, Phoebe and Peeves dropping a veritable mountain of over-creamed eclairs into doorways, and _Filch_ just existing.

But Sirius, within a short enough time, arrived at the hospital wing - and it was at that point that he started feeling dizzy. Vaguely, he could feel molten lead in his lungs as his arms and legs threatened to collapse, his stomach and spleen punching him over and over again.

But Sirius could _hear _her - that Cynthia girl, talking to Dumbledore about their duel on the grounds.

"... then they banished Harry's body at me, sir," Cynthia answered placidly.

"I see," Dumbledore said. "And you stopped it?"

"Yes, sir. Then they turned into a dog."

"Turned into a dog?" Dumbledore asked, intrigued. "Tell me - did this look like any old dog, or did it look… bizarre, in some way?"

"No, sir, it looked like the average greyhound. It jumped at me before I stopped them in place." Cynthia frowned. "Sir, what are the registered Animagi-"

"There are no dog Animagi, Ms. Merrythought - I am notified every time a new Animagus is placed in the register." Sirius, again, was glad they never registered. "Still, I will check with Minerva at the next staff meeting tonight - perhaps she will have something important to say."

Sirius paled. Moony knew what his form was.

As the conversation slowly went on, Sirius grew restless. Dumbledore _had_ to leave - Sirius had no illusions that he would be able to kill Peter with Dumbledore there as well. And he had to leave _fast_ \- Sirius had opened up the map as the two had been speaking, and saw that Wormtail was moving back and forth on the bed in jerkish motions.

"Scabbers… get a… hold of… yourself!" Ron's voice interrupted Cynthia and Dumbledore's chat in the hospital wing.

Quite plainly put, if he did nothing now, Scabbers would get away, and he wouldn't have another chance with the result of this conversation.

"I stopped the dog's lunge with an Impediment Jinx, after which they transformed back into a person and used Legilimency on me."

Dumbledore nodded. "I see - and I assume you are an Occlumens, correct?"

"Sir, you tried to use Legilimecy on me the second you saw me. Yes, I am an Occlumens." Cynthia sounded more exasperated than anything.

"Quite," Dumbledore coughed. "Back to the matter at hand - you repelled them successfully?"

"Yes."

"That's quite impressive, Ms. Merrythought. I have yet to see someone of your age deal with a Legilimency attack from an adult wizard - be proud of yourself."

"Of course. After I blocked their attack, I tried my own probe, which didn't do anything-"

"Ah - you are skilled in Legilimency as well?"

"I try to be well-rounded, sir."

"Quite. Then, after the Legilimency?"

"After that, the wizard tore off their cloak - I didn't catch a good look at their face, but they were wearing threadbare and thin clothes, the kind you could fix yourself before needing to go to a tailor."

"You are suggesting that they didn't have a wand until previously," Dumbledore stated neutrally.

"Yes - that, or they like threadbare clothes." Cynthia coughed a small laugh. "But since Harry is missing his wand, I'm thinking that the wizard, whoever they are, stole it from him."

"After the wizard tore off the cloak, then?"

"Then they tried to punch me, which I tried to stop - but then he banished Harry's body at me again, from below. And when I was distracted with that, he Stunned me." Cynthia sighed. "And then I woke up here."

Dumbledore was silent for some time. Then, he spoke with a proud warm tone. "I have my suspicions as to who that man is, Ms. Merrythought, and if I'm correct you were lucky to be only stunned. Though, I suspect it is only due to your pureblood heritage."

"Sirius Black, then."

"He is on the school grounds." Dumbledore stood up, the weight of his shoes hitting the floor. "I must go to Professor Lupin to confirm my findings, and if so then I must update the wards of the school. For now, Ms. Merrythought, rest." With that, Dumbledore stepped out of the hospital wing, nearly bumping into Sirius as he did so.

Sirius would have let out a breath of relief, but that had gotten him in trouble already today. So he simply held his breath and stepped slowly, very carefully, as to not make a sound. He was still exhausted from all the magic he had cast, so if he was going to cast another spell, it would have to be the one that killed Wormtail. He had already made enough mistakes with this assassination as it stood.

Sirius stepped into the hospital wing. On one side, Cynthia, Ron, and Harry relaxed in beds, Ron still holding Wormtail in place (bless his soul) despite Wormtail's increasingly frantic attempts to escape. Cynthia was still awake and lucid, reading one of the books that Madam Pomfrey kept for the invalids as they rested. Harry, on the other hand, was still out of it from being used as a makeshift bludgeon by Sirius, as well as general hypothermia. The Slytherins rested on the other wall, still unconscious despite being rennervated.

Sirius slowly tiptoed across the floor, making sure not to make a sound as he did so. Cynthia did nothing, leaving herself content to read. She and Ron had no conversation, other than a few questions Ron had as he tried to wrestle 'Scabbers' into submission.

Five meters away...

…

…

Four meters away...

…

…

Three meters away...

…

…

Two meters away...

…

…

Just one meter away… only a few more steps…

Sirius was right next to Wormtail. Wormtail stopped struggling - somehow, he could sense that Sirius was there. Ron stopped holding him, relieved that Scabbers was no longer struggling, but that no longer mattered, as Sirius had the rat at wand tip. Sirius saw the rat tremble in fear - there was nothing the rat could do to stop a point-blank Killing Curse.

And there was no way he wouldn't do it, either. Peter wouldn't revert back on death, Sirius was already charged for his murder, the Killing Curse was legal on animals - really, a whole boat of reasons.

"Well, Peter," Sirius whispered, just loud enough so that only the rat (well, maybe Ron too, judging by how his ears pricked and his head turned). "Let's finish the job. _Avada Ke-_"

Wormtail shat himself.

"EAAARRRUGUUGUHH!" Ron then proceeded to perform a very stupid trick, throwing the rat away. "DISGUSTING!" Ron flung himself off the bed to go wash the poo off his hands.

Sirius cursed loudly, drawing Cynthia's attention, as Peter scampered away in fear.

"_Accio_, _Avada Kedav_-" Wormtail started zooming to him at high speed, but before Sirius could land the Killing Curse, Cynthia was immediately on him.

"_Accio _Cloak!" The Invisibility Cloak ripped itself off of Sirius's shoulders, flying toward Cynthia at rapid speeds, and making Sirius stumble slightly. The Killing Curse, bright green and destructive, crashed into the glass window and broke it into thousands of little pieces.

There was a bright flash of light, where Wormtail was zooming toward him. Then, a split second later, Wormtail had transformed into a… bug thing? Flat, gray, and a broom's load of little legs, Wormtail's Anima dropped to the ground, Sirius's magic sliding off the new form for some inexplicable reason. Seven times as fast as a cockroach, Wormtail scuttled up to the broken window, and without a single look back, jumped out.

Sirius stared - somehow, he couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"_Stupefy_!" Cynthia screamed. Oh yeah, that.

There was no point in staying here and dueling two on one, Ron finally having pulled his wand out of his pocket after nearly having a heart attack from Sirius's surprise appearance. Sirius took one look at the Wormtail, who was already just a dot on the grounds, and knew that summoning him would take too long, considering the attacks he was about to face. Sirius had practically no magic left, either -

Sirius sighed.

"Looks like I won't need _this_ anymore." Sirius threw the map at Cynthia as a distraction. Then, before either of them could do anything about the map or him, Sirius leaped out the window.

It was this point that he realized just what a _stupid_ decision he just made and that he was plummeting to his death. It was a tall drop, one that he couldn't survive in either form. Meanwhile, Wormtail was going to get away in his… Anima… form.

…

…

…

The ground was looking awfully close, and he had nothing to lose anymore. Sirius lunged into his pocket and slipped the amulet on as fast as he could.

"_Excitare Anima_!"

There was a blinding flash of light, and Sirius felt his bones break and shift. He hit the ground, but the damage was completely absorbed by the magic of the transformation and nullified, as he now was in a completely different body.

Sirius didn't know exactly _what _he turned into, only that it was a dog-like thing. He didn't check himself out though, as he had a rat… bug… whatever Wormtail was at the moment to hunt down.

The chase resumed.

* * *

And so, the amulet left Hogwarts for the time being, left to be used as a tool by a resourceful, if brash, man. The Wielder wouldn't be able to find the rat he needed to kill, having lost him in the fields of Scotland after chasing the traitor for seven nights and seven days, and lamented, once more, his rashness in the entire ordeal. All the tools he ever needed, rendered useless by impatience and vengeance.

But the amulet has not been lost forever, nor has the Wielder left Hogwarts forever. He will return soon…

He will have no choice in the matter, after all.

* * *

**Wimpod**

**Category: Turn Tail Anima**

**Abilities: Wimp Out**

**Type: Bug, Water**

**Description: Wimpod is the Cowardly Anima. If it is attacked, for whatever reason at all, its instincts will force it to flee. It can always escape, no matter the situation - if chased by something faster than it, it will burrow, and if the attacker can burrow, it can fly. Even trapping it in a sealed box won't stop it, as it can even chew through walls with acidic spit. However, it cleans the ground under as it runs, so that tracking it is easy. **

**Evolves into: Golisopod**

* * *

**Mightyena**

**Category: Bite Anima**

**Abilities: Intimidate, Quick Feet, Moxie**

**Type: Dark**

**Description: Mightyena is the Dark Wolf Anima. No longer a brat like a Poochyena, Mightyena are quick and powerful. With strong fangs and a malicious disposition, it can take down many foes. Though it can easily work with others, it will only submit to those it deems capable and of a strong heart. Ruthless and relentless, it will continue a hunt unless those it is close are threatened.**

**Evolves from: Poochyena**

* * *

**Sorry for the late chapter. It didn't turn out quite the way I wanted, but I figured that it wouldn't be great no matter what I did. At some point, it, and Sirius, ran away from me. I decided to just follow the story to where it was going and see where I'd go from here. Again, sorry for the late upload.**

**Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. A lot less Ron and Anima and a lot more dueling and revenge 'plots', and we get to see Cynthia in action. She's one of the characters in Pokemon that demands your respect and attention, so I hope that she's doing rather well. **

**Thank you for reading. Next chapter I'll (hopefully) be wrapping up the third year quietly since it's been mostly build-up so far for the future years. There's no Voldemort in the third year, so it doesn't really make sense to have kind of giant confrontation, at least in my eyes. Be sure to fav and follow, and leave a review. **

**See you later!**


	11. Interlude: Dumbledore and Lupin

It was only a matter of time before it came out. Remus' guilt had finally overwhelmed his former loyalty to his old friend and his fear of reprisal.

Dumbledore laced his fingers as he thought alone in his study. The events on the night of the Hogsmeade weekend had blindsided them all. In an attempt to gather any sort of cohesive narrative, Dumbledore used Legilimency on the various students involved. That included Harry, once he had recovered from hypothermia (which, unfortunately, a Pepper-Up alone could not fix), Cynthia Merrythought, and young Draco.

He had yet to get the testimony of Mr. Weasley, which is what he was waiting for - ten or so minutes prior, he had sent Minerva to fetch the boy so that he could talk to him.

Two hours prior to that, he had a conference with one of the Aurors involved with the search for Black. They, along with the Minister, had expressed the most major of doubts concerning the ease at which Black had managed to enter the school. Dumbledore had attempted to assuage them of the security of the ancient building and had finally convinced them after an hour of fretful speeches.

Then, just as the Ministry and the Aurors left, Remus entered, looking far more contrite than he ever had been when he was gallivanting about with James, Black, and Peter. Sensing something amiss, Dumbledore planned to wheedle out what Remus was hiding, only to find the plan pointless as Remus confessed.

There, Dumbledore was faced with an unfortunate truth - the misdeeds and misbehaviors of the four Gryffindors extended far beyond simple pranks and jokes, as mean-spirited as they were. The four broke several _laws_, learning to become Animagi without the proper authorization and precautions. James was 'Prongs', a stag. Peter was 'Wormtail', a rat. Black was 'Padfoot' a wolfish hound.

What's more, all of the boys knew the true purpose of the Shrieking Shack and went inside every full-moon to accompany Remus during the transformation. Dumbledore's new knowledge recontextualized James' rescue of Severus as well - Dumbledore had assumed since Black had been seen nowhere near the Shack during the transformation, that Severus had been fibbing about Black leading him there. Instead, it was as Severus claimed - Black leading him to the ravenous beast, with James stopping him at the last second.

Had he believed Severus earlier, perhaps he would have been able to stop Black earlier before he could have done as much damage as he did. But what was done was done, and Dumbledore could only change fate from five hours previous.

Remus then handed in his resignation, apologizing profusely for his misdemeanors and dishonesty. Dumbledore had considered denying the resignation but eventually decided that, yes, Remus was right - Remus had given Black far too knowledge and anonymity, and while Remus appeared contrite, it was far too little, far too late. Dumbledore thought himself a forgiving man but knew that Remus, not trusting himself or Dumbledore, would go to the Ministry.

He had practically admitted as such, given the forms he had already owled from the ministry considering his resignation. It was an antiquated form of resignation from a position, one made near-obsolete because of a law enacted fifty-or-so years ago he had passed in the Wizengamot. The resignation was now used for disrespect - though, Dumbledore thought that it was less disrespect in Remus' case and more Remus showing that he is willing to go to the Ministry over this.

And while it wasn't much of a threat, with Dumbledore having the ability to talk down the Ministry, it showed that the Black's latest infiltration had broken Remus' faith in himself and his own kindness - that he was too much of a coward to stop his old friend before he did something they would all regret. Dumbledore unfortunately agreed and accepted his resignation.

Then, once Remus left, Dumbledore began to think.

That dog that Cynthia had seen wasn't an illusion or hallucination like Dumbledore had previously thought - it _was_ a genuine dog. Even with twelve years in Azkaban, Black maintained the facilities needed to transform. Dumbledore highly suspected that the Animagus form was what allowed Black to escape - it was the only thing the prison couldn't account for, and it gave protection to Black from the misery a Dementor's presence produced.

What's more, the Shrieking Shack was a hiding spot that Black could - and probably had - use. Dumbledore had discounted it on the grounds of Black not having a wand to freeze the boughs with, but a dog form could easily allow him through the branches.

Dumbledore, as he waited for Mr. Weasley to appear, ruminated on the events and began to construct a timeline of events. Black had escaped from prison without a wand, presumably using his Animagus form. Ollivander reported no break-ins, and neither had any other wand-manufacturer. There were also no cases of missing wands, important as they were. With that, Dumbledore knew that there was no way Black could have used any other magic, the Muggles preventing him from going between countries.

Unless Black used his Animagus form to sneak through the border… there _was_ a chance that Black had a wand, even with him stealing Harry's wand and presumably protecting it from being summoned.

Of course, if he did have a wand, then Black could have acted much sooner and with much more autonomy than he did. There were no sightings of Black, nothing showing a trail. Black did nothing but hide, hide, hide - until he arrived at Hogwarts, sneaking into the Shack to hide.

At Halloween, he attempted to attack Gryffindor Tower, only to be thwarted by the efforts of the Fat Lady and the ghostly duo, Peeves and Phoebe. There, he must have grown an interest in Anima, or at least something resembling curiosity.

Then Harry, storming off from Hogsmeade (which he had already been punished for going to by Minerva) arrived at the Shrieking Shack, and begun suffering from hypothermia. There, Harry's memories abruptly stop - Dumbledore could only guess that Black, seeing Harry's prone body n the floor, took the wand and Obliviated him.

As opposed to killing him.

That was one of the major sticking points with the investigation - Black had all the opportunity in the world to enact his revenge on Harry, yet Obliviated him instead - and it wasn't an identity removing Obliviate, but simply removing Harry's memories of the Shack. During Black's battle with Cynthia, he used Harry's body as a distraction, not a hostage. For some reason, Black hadn't harmed Harry, even when it was convenient.

Dumbledore rubbed his forehead - perhaps, when they found Black and interrogated him, the truth would come to light. Granted, Black had Occlumency - he made sure all of the members of the order could use it, as the enemy was the greatest Legilimencer in the world - preventing the use of Veritaserum. Cynthia had been under a mental assault from Black, meaning that Black learned Legilimency from Voldemort as well.

Regardless, Black, once Obliviating Harry, took the Map and the Cloak as well, allowing him to go undetected. After that, Black must have gone for the castle. Cynthia reported (her Occlumency was strong enough to repel him, so he resorted to traditional truth-telling methods) that she had felt suspicious when walking back from Hogsmeade, and when she doubled back to make sure nothing was amiss, found the amulet levitating from Mr. Malfoy's unconscious (not dead, interestingly) body. Mr. Malfoy's memories corroborated this, with him seeing footprints and his voice being silenced right before being stunned.

Then she and Black dueled - and Black used no lethal spells whatsoever, using only Stunners and various other battle magicks, including the Legilimency. He promptly defeated her with the use of Harry's body and a Stunner, and then quickly fled the scene, running toward the castle if the footprints were to be believed.

Then, a small while later, after the five students were rescued and placed in the infirmary, Black struck again. This, too, was at the infirmary, but instead of attacking the students, Black went for Mr. Weasley's rat, which promptly fled at having an oversized man snarling at it.

Dumbledore briefly considered Black having gone insane - but then discounted it, as the plans he had made and the decisions he enacted were far too complex and methodical to be chalked up to mere insanity. Black had a _goal_ in mind - but what was it?

Then someone knocked at his door. Dumbledore checked his wards - young boy, nearly thirteen years old, nervous - and previously registered as Ronald Billius Weasley.

"Come in, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore called out, and the young boy stepped inside, looking slightly nervous. Dumbledore brushed against the boy's mental shields and found a strong mental fortress - not nearly as strong as Cynthia's or any other accomplished Occlumens, but strong enough to force Dumbledore to exert some force to break them if he so chose.

Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent shielding, Mr. Weasley," he praised, at which the boy not-so-subtly preened. "It needs some work, but your Occlumency is excellent for someone your age."

"Heh… well, you know, I do my best, Professor," Ronald attempted to hide a smile - and in doing so, his shields weakened from the split attention. Dumbledore chose not to comment on that. "Is this about Alchemy? I'm pretty sure I turned in all of my assignments."

"No, this isn't about Alchemy, Mr. Weasley. And even if this was about Alchemy, I would be hard-pressed to be critical, as your skills easily outmatch my own at your age." Never mind the fact that Dumbledore hadn't chosen to learn Alchemy until later. "No, this is about the incident in the infirmary several nights ago."

Ronald blinked, before his. "You mean when Sirius Black chased Scabbers out of the window?" There was a definite tinge of anger in his question, as though he was trying not to think of his (probably dead) rat.

"Yes, I was hoping you could tell me the events of that day, starting from when you woke up?"

"Why then?" Ronald questioned, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, doesn't that have nothing to do with the events in the infirmary?"

"I don't need _everything_, Mr. Weasley - only the unusual and odd parts. Things that could contribute to the events at the infirmary." Dumbledore had found that the events before an incident could tell him a lot about the incident itself. "For instance, why you were at the infirmary in the first place, and why you had brought your rat along with you."

Ronald winced. "That's… uh…" He looked around nervously. "So, anyway, I got up this morning, dressed, came down, ate breakfast - toast and bacon - and went to Hogsmeade with Hermione. Then I caught a cold in the snow and-"

Dumbledore's Sneakoscope, on top of a distant bookshelf, lit up and started whirring. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow as Ronald's ears went red.

"I won't reduce points, for now, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said. "I only hope that you'll tell the truth - the _complete_ truth."

Ronald nodded nervously. "Of course, professor." He coughed. "A-Anyway… Hermione and I were inside Hogsmeade, looking for treats to buy for Harry when he snuck up on us wearing the Cloak. Then, after he explained the Marauder's Map to us - that's a-"

"Mr. Weasley, I know what the Map is. You needn't explain it to me."

"Well, after he explained the Map to us, he, Hermione and Neville went to the Three Broomsticks. While that was happening, Fred and George brought me to the Shrieking Shack-"

"The Shrieking Shack, you say?" Dumbledore interrupted, feeling concerned.

"Uh, yeah? What about it?"

So there was more than one avenue for Black to find out about the amulet and Anima. Dumbledore once more found the desire to see the pyramid Ronald had found the amulet from.

"Nothing, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore waved off Ronald's concerns. "Just something I found interesting. Continue."

"Well, they talked to me about the Anima there - or," Ronald corrected, as the Sneakoscope lit up. "They wanted to talk to me about one of the Marauders - Wormtail." Ron's eyes narrowed in hate.

"Wormtail?" Dumbledore asked, more than a little confused. That was Peter, who was _dead_. "Why him?"

"He's the one who helped _Malfoy_ steal the amulet," Ronald said with the darkest of vitriols. "He wrote a note that told Malfoy how and where to ambush me and take the amulet from me, and bewitched Scabbers to lead me to the ambush."

Dumbledore's lips parted. "Are you _sure_?"

Ronald scoffed. "Of course, do you _think_ I'm lying?" He pointed to the Sneakoscope - which means Ronald truly believed Wormtail was the one to arrange the theft of his amulet.

Previously, Dumbledore hadn't taken much care to the original theft - at the time, he was preoccupied with stopping the Ministry from placing more Dementors around the school grounds after Black's original infiltration and had little time to deal with it. He ordered Severus to reprimand Draco and impress upon him to not let anyone know - which didn't go as well as he had hoped.

Still, the theft showed Dumbledore that Ronald wasn't the ablest protector of the amulet - he could be fooled, tricked, and have the amulet taken away from him from semi-competent thieves. Dumbledore knew Lucius would teach the young boy to protect his items, the Slytherins they may be, so the amulet _should_ have been safer in his hands.

Plus, with Severus around to guide the boy with their implicit trust in each other, Dumbledore would have a hand in indirectly manipulating the amulet and what it did. The boy wasn't Dark either, even with several Dark influences in his life - theft and bullying were paltry compared to what could have been.

Regardless, Dumbledore had refused Ronald's rather rude orders to take back the amulet - a refusal he now saw as misguided and wrong.

Dumbledore laced his fingers again. "Continue, Mr. Weasley."

"Well, I misunderstood them and thought _they_ were Wormtail, and so I… attacked them." Ronald said, wincing.

"... thirty points from Gryffindor, and two detentions." Dumbledore said after a few seconds. Ronald grimaced rubbing the back of his neck. "I shouldn't have to explain to you how abhorrent of a decision that it, Mr. Weasley."

"No, Professor," Ronald muttered. "I understand."

Dumbledore gazed at Ronald, concerned, before waving at him to continue.

"After that, Fred and George stopped me and forced me to calm down - not before dunking my Growlithe form in snow. That… it made me feel weird." Ronald shivered a little. "It was cold… and then it wasn't, for some reason."

"Hypothermia, Mr. Weasley. Your body was shutting down, starting with your common sense."

Ronald winced. "Oh… well, they brought me to the Three Broomsticks, where I tried to chat up the Professors." His ears went red again. "And then Hermione brought me to the infirmary," he quickly rushed.

Dumbledore nodded. "And then?"

"And then I rested and relaxed… until you guys brought in Harry and Malfoy and Cynthia. Then, once they were resting and you stopped talking to Cynthia… Black attacked, going for…" Here Ronald looked confused. "Scabbers?"

"Your rat, I presume," Dumbledore stated. Ronald nodded.

"Yeah… Do you think he is mad? I mean Harry was _right there_ but he went for Scabbers?" Ronald frowned. "Do you think he was Confounded or anything?"

That was a possibility - but who would let Black run loose if they had successfully Confounded him? He was a danger and a menace, his face was over all of the wanted posters. Why let him go? Who would do such a thing?

"I believe not," Dumbledore stated neutrally. "Perhaps he wanted something with the rat."

"... right." Ronald looked as unsure as Dumbledore felt. "Anyway, that's all I remember. I went to go wash my hands, and that was when Black struck. After that, he escaped, chasing after Scabbers after Scabber jumped out of the window." Ron furrowed his brow. "Professor, do you think Scabbers is alright?"

"... if Black is chasing him," Dumbledore began, only to taper off as Ronald went pale. "I see you understand."

Ron's eyes fell to the ground. "... is there anything else you wanted from me, Professor?"

"No, Mr. Weasley. Please, enjoy the rest of your holidays." With that, Ronald left his office, leaving Dumbledore to stew over what he had learned.

Much of that Ronald had told him were things he already knew… except for the ambush, which he had not considered important until now. He had thought it of only little importance, seeing it more as a disciplinary issue, rather than the larger thing it was now becoming.

Wormtail… Peter was dead, there was no doubt of that. All they found of him was a finger. It must have been someone who knew of the Marauders, it was highly unlikely to be just a coincidence. Was it Black, leading on young Draco to make him do his bidding?

No, if Black was presumably close enough to control Ronald's rat, then he wouldn't need to put on an ambush. He could then just kill Harry or take the amulet for himself right then and there, no need for Draco to take it. And Black hadn't been sighted anywhere, nor was there any dog - the portraits would have reported anything unusual like a dog that wasn't Fang on the premises.

There was little chance it could be Black unless there was a way he could control the rat from larger-than-currently-thought-possible distances. And if he could do that, there was no need for Draco to be involved - Black could have taken the amulet himself, or killed Harry.

And Dumbledore now suspected that Black _wasn't _after Harry. There were more than enough times Black could have enacted his revenge but took no opportunity to do so. They had been under the assumption, this entire time, that Black coming to Hogwarts was because of Harry's presence there, but that was far from the truth. Black had more than enough chances to kill him, but rejected it every time, even though he had shown the extreme willingness to kill… one that he had yet to show since Azkaban.

Whatever inspired Black to escape Azkaban and return to Hogwarts wasn't Harry - he had only shown the slightest bit of interest in the boy, and that was for the cloak and the map - and, for some reason, _wouldn't kill him_ \- even when it was more convenient for him to do so.

So, what could it be that Black was after? What was he interested in, so much so that he would come for Hogwarts?

Was it the amulet? But if so, how could he find out about it before he even escaped Azkaban? Ronald hadn't let anyone know - in fact, there wasn't any way for Black to know about the amulet, as he had no wand and had no (he assumed) skill in wandless magic. The only time Black had learned about the outside world was in the… newspaper.

"_Accio Newspaper_!" Dumbledore waved his wand, summoning a stack of issues of the Daily Prophet to his desk. He rifled through the newspapers until he found the set that came out the previous summer.

Which date was it…?

Dumbledore walked over to the fireplace and brought it to life with a wave of his wand. Then he threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fireplace, and it turned emerald green.

"Minister's Office," he called, before sticking his head inside.

Fudge was thankfully sitting at his desk alone, doing a bit of paperwork

"Ahem," Dumbledore coughed.

Fudge's head shot straight up, and he turned to the fireplace before his face split into a smile. "Albus, it's wonderful to see you!" He got up from the desk and crouched down by the fireplace. "How are you doing?"

"Quite well, Minister," Dumbledore said. "I came here to ask a quick question - I hope you don't mind."

"Certainly - I always have time for someone as esteemed as yourself!" Fudge was laying it on a bit thick - Dumbledore imagined he wanted to smooth over relations between Hogwarts and the Ministry, considering the current debacle. Tensions were high after all, considering Black. "What did you want to ask?"

Dumbledore cut right to it. "I'm doing a quick investigation into Black, and I want to know what issue of the Daily Prophet you gave to him when you were visiting."

Fudge sighed. "The… the issue, you say?" Fudge tapped his foot on the ground. "I'm not _completely_ sure - though, it was in the summer… late July… there was a crossword, so it was a Sunday… that should narrow it down enough for you."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's enough for me to find it - thank you, Minister."

Fudge smiled. "Always happy to help."

Dumbledore withdrew from the fireplace and watched the flames return from green to a flickering orange. As always, the Minister was cooperative and trustworthy in times of a crisis. There was that debacle last year with the Basilisk and the (potential Horcrux) diary, but that was the first time such a thing had happened. Dumbledore had been subtly trying to shy the Minister away from bad influences such as Lucius, though it was a slow process.

Dumbledore returned to the desk, looked in the Sunday issues in the latter half of July - there were two of them - and found the newspaper he was looking for immediately. There, in the small article concerning the Weasley family vacation, was the line that stated that Harry was at Hogwarts (Dumbledore found it a little odd they mentioned Harry in the article that didn't concern him - but then again, such was the celebrity life).

But that wasn't what Black had paid attention to, Dumbledore now realized. Over the next thirty or so minutes, he looked over the rest of the newspaper, trying to see if there was any other article that could have inspired Black to make his escape. It was all your average tripe, however - Quidditch scores, celebrity scandals, ads for new businesses in Diagon Alley, the latest relatively unimportant laws passed by the Wizengamot - nothing out of the ordinary. The vacation story was easily the largest, most interesting part of the newspaper, and the only one to mention Hogwarts.

Then Dumbledore remembered the other potential motivation - the amulet. If it was visible in the photograph, and Black _somehow_ recognized it…

Dumbledore inspected the photograph closely, but there was no hint of the amulet as far as he could see. Though, as the pictures moved and changed, perhaps it was simply hidden, and it had come in sight when Black had seen the picture in Azkaban.

But then the Ronald in the picture opened his collar slightly, and there was no amulet. Dumbledore was a little disappointed, then thought about it a little longer. It made little sense regardless if the amulet was in the frame or not - the amulet, according to Ronald, had gone undiscovered for millennia, so there was no chance that Black would know about it, and there were plenty of chances for Black to take the amulet and run from Hogwarts, given that he had the opportunity and didn't want to face the Dementors.

In fact, he _had _the amulet but went after the _rat_.

Dumbledore rubbed his brow. He had been deliberating for nearly half an hour now, but only just figured that Black wasn't after Harry. There was nothing else he had left to go on - perhaps the answer just wasn't there.

Or maybe it was right under his nose, like the fifth use for dragon blood, and he simply wasn't recognizing it.

Black came to the school for a reason. It wasn't for Harry or the amulet - but then, what was it. Briefly, Dumbledore considered Black coming after the rat - after all, it was what he had chased out of the school, after transforming.

But that was ridiculous…

… was it?

It contradicted no facts, as far as Dumbledore knew. The rat was in Gryffindor tower during Halloween, and Black would know about it thanks to the rat being on Ronald's shoulder in the picture in the article. And it _was_ what Black had chased after, giving it more credence than Harry being the target.

But there was a simple reason, Dumbledore reflected while looking at the picture of Scabbers, that it couldn't be the rat. There was nothing of interest about the rat to Black, nothing that would cause him to break out of Azkaban (unless he truly _was_ mad). All that was to Scabbers was a mottled grey fur and a finger cut off.

A finger cut off…

…

… where had he heard that recently…

…

… it was stupid, Dumbledore decided. But then again, there were several other things he had thought true that he had to reconcile earlier that day. Harry wasn't the target of Sirius, and neither was the amulet. Ronald attacked the Weasley twins for being 'Wormtail', because 'Wormtail' was the one who went after the amulet. Ronald was careful enough that the other professors hadn't understood the truth about the amulet until Dumbledore had told them. There was no reasonable way for Black to know about the amulet until very recently.

But then traitors were abundant nowadays.

Remus… could he want the amulet, after Dumbledore had told him of its potential? Was Remus, too, a traitor, one that wished to escape before he was found out?

But there was nothing to implicate Remus by, even if he was a traitor. Remus was methodical in removing the evidence of his crime - and a very good actor, if he managed to allay the initial suspicions the Order had of him. He could cast a Patronus, yes, but so could everyone else in the old Order, including Black (well, except for Peter, but he couldn't even pronounce the words right. It was a miracle that they had managed to teach him Occlumency).

All of the 'evidence' implicating Remus as 'Wormtail' was circumstantial as well - and there was nothing connecting Remus to Black as of yet. So while the Wormtail mystery was (probably) solved… no, it wasn't even that. As much as he wished, he couldn't implicate Remus yet, nor did he particularly wish too. Tom was a good enough actor to trick even the most suspicious, except for himself and Slughorn. There wasn't anyway Remus wouldn't have gone to Slytherin with the amount of trickery.

And the Hat had never been wrong before, as far as Dumbledore knew.

As loathe as he was to admit it, there were scant few people that Dumbledore could implicate. There were the Weasley twins, Mr. Longbottom, Harry, Ronald, Ms. Granger, Filch (who couldn't cast magic, which didn't eliminate him but certainly forced Dumbledore to make a lot of assumptions), and the Marauders themselves. They were the only ones who even conceived of the names Prongs, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Moony.

All of the children were too young to be able to use the magic of bewitching that 'Wormtail' could use. Unless Filch was hiding his ability to do magic, make bewitching potions, and force Ms. Norris to feed it to the rat, he could discount Filch as well. That left the Marauders - and of those alive, only Remus would have the ability to go for the amulet… right?

Dumbledore stared at the picture of the Weasley family on vacation. That was the only logical answer, but it didn't quite feel right to him. It left too many questions unsolved, too many lingering questions… but then all answers did, he supposed.

He sighed. How far had the Marauders fallen? Black and Remus traitors, the 'loyal' wolved in truth traitors, and the innocent, James and Peter, the stag and the rat, dead, one cold but whole in a grave, the other blasted into smithereens, leaving nothing but a finger behind…

… a finger…

Dumbledore looked at the picture… at the rat. It was missing… a coincidence, surely…

… but it fit a strange number of facts if you were to suppose a dead man was truly alive. If 'Wormtail' _wasn't_ obfuscating his identity… then…

Dumbledore then snorted. As if! Even if Peter was miraculously alive, why wouldn't he return to his still-alive family? Why would he content himself to life as a rat?

To take a small break from his deliberations, Dumbledore summoned a pot of tea, and popped a lemon drop, while twirling his wand. Remus had to be the traitor… but the longer Dumbledore let him lay about, the more chance Remus had of doing more damage.

Dumbledore summoned a Patronus. Using the messenger spell, which could enable any object to know a destination to deliver a message (a strange limitation, but as it allowed for owl delivery, it was more than sufficient. It could be blocked if you knew how, but the ward was extracurricular, and none of the Marauders had bothered to learn it, as far as he knew. It didn't disclose the location, either, so it was used in investigations to negotiate more than anything else), Dumbledore dictated as follows:

'_To Remus Lupin: Please come to my office, as I have some urgent questions I need you to answer._'

In his voice, it would (politely) ask Remus to come to his office, as he had a few more questions to ask. Those questions would serve to pry more information from him - and, if the Sneakoscope lit up, Dumbledore would have his answers at last. Then he could stop Remus until the Aurors arrived.

Then, to amuse himself (and partially soother that niggling doubt in the back of his mind), he summoned another Patronus.

'_To Peter Pettigrew: I hope you have been well all these years. Enable Return Message.'_ Dumbledore fully expected the Patronus to shake his head and refuse, as all living things did when sending messages to dead people. After all, dead people couldn't accept messages.

But the Patronus didn't refuse, and instead flew south.

There was a faint ringing in his ears. Wh… why? How… it couldn't work… not at all!

He cast a third Patronus. It didn't work on dead people… right?

'_To James Potter: If you are able to, respond. Enable return message._'

The Patronus shook its head, indicating its inability to deliver the message. The rules of magic hadn't changed, and Dumbledore hadn't misremembered - Patroni couldn't deliver messages to dead people. Somehow, incredibly, Peter was alive…

The door knocked. "May I come in?" Gryffindor, reaching old age, previously registered as Remus Lupin.

"Come in," Dumbledore said in a daze.

Remus came in. "What did you wish to speak about?"

Dumbledore looked at him, thinking. All of the previous questions he had were now unimportant - or, at the very least, he could ask them later. This current mystery of Peter still being alive… it came first.

Dumbledore showed the picture on the Daily Prophet to Remus. "Do you notice anything unusual about the photograph, Remus?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one with all of the Weasleys?" Dumbledore nodded, and Remus looked closer. "Well, Albus, I don't see anything unusual. They all look rather happy, though I…" Remus went silent. "No… I… what… that's… no, I…"

"Anything unusual at all?" Dumbledore pressed.

Remus looked at Dumbledore incredulously. "Was this photograph doctored?"

"Not to my knowledge - otherwise, the potion wouldn't stick."

Remus gulped. "I… I must be seeing things, then."

The Sneakoscope lit up and spun. Remus looked at it with apprehension.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked.

Remus looked at the picture. "I… I must apologize… it's just… well… it looks like Wormtail…" He finally said. "But that's Mr. Weasley's rat, right?"

Suddenly, the Patronus he had sent earlier - the one to Peter - had finally come back. The luminous phoenix opened its mouth.

'_From Peter Pettigrew:_" His own voice echoed back at him, confident and amused and nothing like he was feeling now.

"_Squeak! Squeak Squeak Squeak!_", a panicked mouse - no, a rat - squeaked in panic.

Remus collapsed in a daze. "It… how…"

Dumbledore, collecting himself slightly looked at the picture and narrowed his eyes. There was 'Scabbers'... no, Wormtail. Remus was able to recognize him on sight, as one who had spent their juvenile years with someone in that form should. Black was just as bright as Remus, meaning that he saw Peter in the photograph as well, and recognized him. That was enough motivation to escape Azkaban.

Dumbledore said as much to Remus, who slowly pulled himself up. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on what Remus's faith in Dumbledore meant), Remus believed him without explanation.

"Do you have any idea why Peter would motivate black so much, Remus?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I…" Remus crossed his eyes. "No… I don't think so…" Remus looked back at Dumbledore. "They always got along rather well - it wasn't anything strong, like what we thought Sirius and James were like, but it was a powerful friendship nonetheless."

Dumbledore had thought so too, but more and more things were starting to feel wrong, now that the truth of Peter's survival was brought to the forefront of his mind. "A better question, Remus, is why Peter hasn't sought protection - surely, he knows that he would be a target of Black's no matter what."

"Perhaps he would have thought it awkward to return to the realm of the living," Remus said. "After Black's blast cut off his finger and he was presumed dead…"

"Pardon me? The blast 'cut off' his finger?" Dumbledore chuckled darkly. "When does a blast cut off a finger?"

"Maybe Black used a cutting spell, then?" Remus offered.

"Then why was there the blast, Remus? It was too large and directed to Muggles to be the discharge of a spell - someone had to have cast it." Dumbledore smoothed out his beard. "And if he made the blast, then the only one who could have cut off Peter's finger was… well, Peter himself."

"Maybe the finger was cut off earlier? And then Black tried to blast Peter, only for him to escape in his Animagus form."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore finally said. "Still, that doesn't answer the question of why Peter refused to return to society after escaping Black. Going to live as a rat for a little over twelve years is hardly appealing compared to the luxuries of the magical world. He didn't _usually_ spend time as a rat, did he?"

Remus shook his head. "Almost never - he complained often."

"Then he must have had a good reason for hiding in the Weasley family." The Dumbledore realized something. "The Weasley twins had access to the map, didn't they? Does your true name appear on the Map?"

Remus nodded. "Yes - though, you can modify it if you need to, to show an illusion over your name. I put a little countercurse over the Map that would let us - and only us, mind you - to see through them. If Peter ever had access to a wand he could ever use, then he could hide his name. Only Black and I will ever be able to see 'Peter Pettigrew' instead of 'Scabbers'."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "You need to use a wand to modify it… then Peter isn't stuck as a rat, and can change like he usually did." There were cases of Animagi getting stuck into their form, due to a poorly-timed cursed - but this wasn't one of them.

Dumbledore sighed. "More work, then," he finally said, with a great deal of tiredness.

Remus looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Peter is alive and is Black's target. Exactly why is most likely related to what happened at their duel twelve years ago. Furthermore, Peter refuses to turn back into a human, even though he can, and endeavors to keep his identity as 'Scabbers' secret. Then, learning of the amulet from Ronald, he arranged an ambush so that Mr. Malfoy could steal it."

"And is now on the run and _still_ refuses to change back," Remus finished. "Even though it would be easier with a wand at hand."

Dumbledore nodded. "Peter is much more deeply entrenched in Black's evils then we previously expected, and is someone that needs to be questioned." He stood up. "I'm going to see the records of what occurred during Black's trial - I was never invited or told the time of the trial."

Remus stood up. "I'll come too," he said. "I'll do my best to help, sir."

Dumbledore nodded. "Excellent." Then he made a decision. "Remus, stay as the Defense professor for the rest of the year so that I have to time to find a replacement for next year."

"But-"

"You can retire forcefully… but I looked in Harry's head a little more than I should. You promised to teach him the Patronus, correct? Do you wish to renege on that promise."

Remus stayed silent.

"No matter how long you were afraid and reluctant to put the information forward, you still did in the end. That counts for much, Remus - and the children need the best professor they've had in years." Dumbledore smiled. "You can push your departure for a couple of months, correct?"

"... I suppose." Remus said. "I'll stay - but only until the year finishes. After that… I'll…"

"I'll set you on the chase for Black," Dumbledore decided. "Wolf chases dog chases rat."

"But… I… how can you trust me with something like that?"

"Remus, do you regret your inaction until now? Your failures concerning detecting Black being the traitor? Your unwillingness to divulge old secrets?"

Remus didn't answer out loud since the answer came from the look on his face.

Dumbledore gave him one final nudge. "Six months to prepare - I think that'll be more than enough to ready yourself for your penance."

"Penance…" Remus's eyes hardened. "I… thank you, Professor."

Remus would have suffered under the guilt he had burdened himself under. Dumbledore had given him a way out, in a way that helped both of them. Though he was loathe to admit it, Gellert's old lessons in politics came in handy once again.

Dumbledore rose from his chair and threw Floo Powder in the fireplace. "Shall we, Remus?"

Remus trailed behind him. "Of course."

Then they disappeared into the Floo, and the investigation continued.

* * *

**Usually, characters discovering Peter's treachery do so very quickly, the clues piecing themselves in the _exact_ right way for the correct conclusion to be seen. You know, like in detective stories. No other plausible explanations ever seem to come to them - especially with the book 3 mystery.**

**Seriously, how often does a dead person seem to be alive, without any express protective magic beforehand? Peter was seen as a martyr - he's as far as you can be from a suspect. Honestly, I don't know why Dumbledore chose to believe Sirius in canon - Harry goes unconscious, and then there's the conversation off-screen.**

**As for Dumbledore... he's manipulative - though, I choose not to see that as a flaw. He learned how to do it from Grindelwald (and he's good at it because of his general talent), after being manipulated himself, and grew its ability over the years, and when he broke away from Grindelwald, he chose to use it out of usefulness, to help students - and eventually, lead the Order against the Death Eaters, with the Ministry being hamstrung. **

**In one of the flashbacks in 'The Prince's Tale', Dumbledore talks with Snape. It's clear to see that Snape is aware of Dumbledore's machinations and manipulations, and resents it slightly - but ultimately, accepts it. Dumbledore speaks the truth for the most part but hides a lot of what he knows because of Voldemort, Legilimency, and the dangers of him knowing. After all, if Voldemort knew that Dumbledore knew about the Horcruxes... well, imagine the Lord of the Rings if Sauron took the Fellowship seriously before it was too late. That's also why I had Dumbledore teach the Order Occlumency - to a) give them an excuse for not using Legilimency to find the traitor and b) because, you know, your enemy is a premier Legilimens.**

**So, do I consider Dumbledore's manipulations wrong? Honestly, no. Him keeping secrets is necessary, considering that, if captured, an Occlumens can only hold out for so long against torture and Legilimency, so keeping truly valuable information away from as many people as possible is a top priority. Keeping secrets but having to act against Voldemort anyway inevitably leads to manipulation, so Dumbledore was forced into it no matter what. It's fortunate (not unfortunate) he was good at too.**

**His intending to sacrifice Harry is a terrible choice, but if there was really no other option (and we never see any alternatives), then the lives of the many outweigh the life of one. Voldemort could kill many, _many_ more people at once than Harry could save at once, given their overall abilities, so taking out Voldemort was prioritized over Harry's life. We're never told if Dumbledore looked for other ways to remove a Horcrux than killing them, but given what we see of Dumbledore's character in the final few decades of his life, it's probable he searched for it. After all, Draco wanted to _kill_ him, yet Dumbledore wanted Snape to kill him so that Draco would remain innocent, and that Voldemort wouldn't kill him - he values innocents and innocent lives. **

**From his search for the Horcruxes - particularly against Hokey and Morphin Gaunt - Dumbledore has used Legilimency, so we know that he's willing to use it if need be (and is willing to train others in the Mind Arts, given that he offered to train Harry hadn't it been for him being a Horcrux). I imagine that if he allows Dementors on the school grounds, using Legilimency in an investigation is acceptable in his books. As to the relative morality of him using it, you guys can discuss it between yourselves.**

**The next chapter will come soon, then I'll take a break from this fic to prepare for the fourth year. Feel free to review, fav and follow - they mean a lot to me.**

**Catch you later!**


	12. Science and Searches (End of Year 3)

"Farran, what are you doing?"

Farran paused, holding a wand over a small beetle that he had caught. "Transfiguration. Why?"

Neville scratched his head. "It looks like you're about to squash it - maybe stop poking it so much?"

Farran looked at him, a little cross, before sighing. Shooing the beetle away, he turned to Neville. "So, that was a bust," he declared, irritated.

"What's a bust?" Neville asked, looking at the beetle as it frantically scurried away from Farran. There were strange square-shaped markings around its eyes, and as it flew away, Neville thought it gave him a rather thankful look.

"Incantationless magic," Farran said, pursing his lips. "I've mastered the beetle-to-button transfiguration in class, so I thought I'd give it a go with transfiguring it through effort alone."

"But… don't you need an incantation to do magic?" Neville slowly pointed out. Didn't they go over this in _Magical Theory_? Was Neville _actually_ ahead of Farran in something for once?

"Then why can some wizards just _wave_ their wands and have magic happen?!" Farran groaned. "There's the wizard Baruffio and all, but if pronunciation can change the outcome of a spell so drastically, then why can some spells be done without _any_?!"

Neville shrugged. "I dunno. Anyway, do you want to…" Neville trailed off, seeing the fire in Farran's eyes. "Maybe you should ask Professor Flitwick?"

"He said that it's material for upper years, and when I tried to sneak a look at the spellbooks in the library I was shooed, and then _spelled_, away. Even when I went in during the night - oh, shut up, everyone's done it at one point or another - there wasn't anything on it - all I could find were some reference to non-verbal casting, but they kept on repeating that it had to be done practice and teaching."

"So…"

"So I'm teaching myself," Farran declared. "The upper years won't help me, not even the Ravenclaws, and neither will any of the teachers. This is the best thing I could think up," he admitted, with a bashful frown at the end.

"Have you tried Fred and George? They could probably help," Neville suggested.

"They were the first I asked," Farran replied. "And they said no, after a minute's thought. They were the slowest too - but even _they_ wouldn't say why?!"

"So you're on your own, then?" Neville said at last.

"Well, you could help me," Farran suggested. "If you want to know… actually, never mind, you can go."

"Oh… okay." Neville turned away and started walking away.

"... on second thought, I need someone to explain this to," Farran said before Neville got too far. Neville turned and saw a slight look of fear cross Farran's face before it was quickly wiped away. "So you'll have to stay here - sorry."

"It's no problem - Harry's at one of his lessons with Lupin, and N, Ron, and Hermione are studying for the Alchemy final next week." Because Alchemy was just a weird class, Professor Dumbledore was having his students take the first half of their final exam a couple of months early. According to Ron, they'd be doing nothing but practicals for the rest of the year. He was remarkably happy about that as well.

It was a cold and wet March day, so there wasn't any sunshine, and the grounds were too wet to traipse around on. Neville, with the help of Ron and Harry, had managed to finish all of his essays and other homework. That left him with nothing else to do.

Oh, he supposed he could hang out with Dean and Seamus… but they were too… normal? Was that something he was against now? With the overall oddballs that were Harry and N, and the bookworms Farran and Hermione (and N again), the only semi-normal friend he had was Ron - and he was an Alchemy nut and obsessed with the amulet (and was desperately keeping up with the Daily Prophet nowadays, if they showed any sign of Black).

With Dean and Seamus, you could expect games and idle chatter, and not much else. Neville had tried hanging out with them once or twice this year, but he felt much more disconnected than he had previously. Eventually, he stopped trying.

So when he found Farran poking a beetle with the end of his wand, he decided he had nothing better to do than join him.

"Great!" Farran said, cheering up, before dragging Neville over to a portion of the wall. "Transfiguration was too complex - let's try something easier before going on to that." He put a rock into Neville's hands. "You remember the incantation for the Hovering Charm, right? _Wingardium Leviosa_ ring any bells?"

"Yeah… what about it?" Neville asked.

"You're older than me, so you've had more time to develop your magic. I want to rest from trying to wordlessly transfigure that beetle, so can you try levitating that rock without talking."

Neville thought about it for a second. The whole thing seemed ridiculous - you _had_ to say the incantation, that was just a rule! But, to humor Farran, Neville decided to try anyway.

Placing the rock in front of him, Neville recited the charm. "Win… _Wingardium Leviosa_." Shakily, slowly, but surely, the rock rose in the air.

"Good, good, now try whispering it," Farran said, sitting down.

Neville looked at the rock floating in the air, then back at Farran. "Are you sure?"

"Yes! Hurry up, we don't have all day, dinner will be in thirty minutes - and then it'll be curfew!"

Neville sighed, then turned to the rock, cutting off the charm. Again, he raised his wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," he whispered. Again, the rock floated in the air, now much quicker and smoother. If anything else, he was getting practice with the charm.

"Okay… so volume _doesn't_ matter." Farran nodded, then took out a small notebook and jotted something down. "Try doing it again, but even softer. See if there's a limit to how low your voice has to go."

That seemed easy enough. Neville stretched, as he realized that even if he failed, Farran would just take that as the limit. So even if he didn't go under the volume-limit of the charm, there would be nothing wrong with it.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," he let out in a single breath - and it sounded like a breath too. You would only be able to distinguish it as actual words if you nearly had your ear pressed to Neville's lips. Again, the rock rose - but at a much slower pace, as if it too decided that it could take its time.

"Did you say the incantation, Neville?" Farran asked, eyes intense.

Neville then briefly considered saying that he hadn't and that he had probably done it nonverbally - but then realized that Farran would try doing it on his own after that, and he'd figure out that Neville had lied. "Yeah - barely, but yeah."

Farran's mouth was upturned. "Hm… try saying it with your mouth closed."

"With my mouth closed."

"You know, hum the incantation. See if that changes anything."

"... humming." He wanted Neville to _hum_ the incantation.

"Yes - come on, Neville, _please_?!"

It occurred to Neville that this was the first time he had ever heard Farran _beg_. Neville gripped his wand.

"And if I can't?"

"If you can't what? Hum?"

"I can hum-"

"Then what's the problem? Hum the incantation and cast the spell," Farran pled. "Look, I'll… I'll…"

Neville got what Farran was trying to say. "You can play Gobstones with me after this - I'll show you the rules. That'll be enough."

"Great - now, go off and hum!"

Neville snorted, then turned to his rock. He closed his eyes, went over the incantation a couple more times, then opened his eyes. _Wingardium Leviosa_, he hummed.

The rock rolled over a couple of times, then fell still. Neville briefly thought he saw it raise slightly, but then dismissed the thought.

He turned to apologize to Farran, only to see his ecstatic face. "That… I can't believe it!"

"I made some sound… " Neville was quick to correct, only to falter as Farran shook his head.

"You _hummed_ the incantation - and it worked! There wasn't anything stupid like the rock turning green - try it again!"

Neville sighed. "You want to give it a try, maybe?"

Farran's eyes widened, and he shot up. "Of course - I've rested for a while now!" He whipped out his wand and trained his eyes on Neville's rock. "Now…" He then hummed the incantation to the Hovering Charm.

Slowly, the rock lifted into the air, wobbling a little, then securing itself a foot off the ground.

Farran's eyes lit up. "It worked!" He flicked his wand, and the connection cut off. "Do you know what this means, Neville?!"

Neville looked at the rock for a second, then hummed the incantation one last time while waving his wand. The rock rose smoothly into the air, higher than where Farran had lifted it to. It was exactly as if he had pronounced it out loud.

"It means," he said slowly. "That… it doesn't matter exactly _how_ you say the pronunciation - the spell will work just fine."

"Yeah - now, I'm not sure if it's just for the Hovering Charm, or that it extends to other spells, but I definitely think that Wizard Baruffio was probably some sort of anomaly… but now that I can hum spells and have them work, I'm one step closer to nonverbal magic."

"But when you hum spells, you still have to say the words, even if your mouth is closed," Neville argued.

Farran fervently shook his head. "Neville, the difference between some phonetics is what shape the lips are in when the sounds are uttered."

"... huh?"

"'S' and 'F' sound _exactly_ the same when you hum them - look!" Farran whipped his wand to the rock and hummed loudly. The rock didn't move.

Farran looked thunderstruck. "But I… how?!" Farran cradled his head in his hands. "It was supposed to _work_!"

"Well, magic is like that," Neville said, looking at the rock which innocently sat on the ground. "It's getting a little late - you want to pick this up tomorrow?"

"... tomorrow?" Farran turned to Neville. "What do you mean?"

"If non-verbal magic exists - and I don't think out humming thing is it, I don't think I've ever seen my grandmum use an incantation or hum a spell - then we should keep trying to find it, right?"

This wasn't the sort of thing Neville did - he rarely played around with spells beyond practice for class. Most of the time, he went over to Professor Sprout's greenhouses and learned a lot about the plants (and he would have done it today if it wasn't for the sky pouring buckets on them).

But he felt a smidgeon of curiosity toward this 'non-verbal spell' thing - and what would his gran say, if she learned that he had done it this early. She would be upset that he did it since it didn't look like they were allowed to learn it... but then she would be proud that he somehow managed to do it anyway.

Farran's eyes lit up. "Right."

"Though, we should probably go down for dinner," Neville said, pointing out toward the setting sun. "And we have Gobstones after that - I'm still going to teach you that."

"But tomorrow…"

"Tomorrow, we take another shot at this." Neville clapped Farran's back. "So let's go!"

Then Neville, turning, went to walk down to Great Hall. Farran started, then hurried to catch up to Neville. A strange light shone in his eyes, as he started talking about possible avenues that they could work on to figuring out how nonverbal casting could work. Neville would pitch in a possible idea every now and then, but for the most part, he stayed silent.

Even as they tucked in their shepherd's pie, Farran wouldn't stop. He started writing down things in his notebook, recording the results of what he had found out, what possible things he and Neville did, and other things like that.

"We're going to have to do this multiple times," Farran said halfway through the meal. "I mean… *munch* we have to make sure that what happened today wasn't an accident or anything… *munch*... you know, reproducibility and all that."

"What?" Neville asked, raising an eyebrow.

Farran gulped down the shepherd's pie. "Sorry, forgot that wizards aren't familiar with the scientific method - though, you really should be."

Neville wrinkled his nose. "'Science'… aren't those the excuses Muggles come up with when they're Obliviated? You know 'gas pipe explosion' and that tripe?"

Farran's eyes raged, and Neville got the feeling he said something that Farran disagreed with heavily. Quickly, he stuck Farran's spoon in his dish and stuffed the pie in Farran's mouth.

Farran coughed the pie down, glaring at Neville. "I… I can't believe it… is _that_ what wizards think science is?!"

"Isn't that what it is, though?"

Farran scoffed. "Science consists of excuses as much as wizardry and witchcraft consist of sacrificing virgins to the moon god or whatever."

Neville's eyes bugged. "What?!" He coughed out his own shepherd's pie. "What… what is that b-"

"Exactly!" Farran said, nodding. "It's completely wrong!"

"Farran… what the hell… are you talking about?"

"Neville, science is the best thing we have to figure out the world around us. Magic doesn't change anything - well, it doesn't change it that _much_," he amended. "But the principles behind science - you know, repeat experiments to see if it happens again and again, change as little as possible between and within experiments to be sure, have controls and experimental groups… and I've lost you, haven't I?"

"Er… yeah."

Farran grinned. "Well, then I have a lot to teach you. If I'm going to be the first wizarding scientist, then you'll have to be the second." He put his plate down. "But… Gobstones?"

"Gobstones," Neville latched on to what he was familiar with. He too put his plate down. "Let's go - I hope Dean and Seamus haven't broken that thin one, it was looking to be nearly broken."

Snape crushed the wineglass in his hands.

* * *

The pain was barely enough - barely - to temporarily knock him out of his overwhelming anger. Slowly, with shaking hands, he picked out the particularly large and dangerous pieces an tossed them to the ground.

"Hempy!" He shouted to thin air. Sure enough, a house-elf - one that he had visited in the kitchens and made sure would come at his call - popped into thin air.

"Yes, professor?" The old elf called. She was retired in a sense - younger, abler elves took the more demanding jobs, while she took jobs that her body was more equipped to handle. Of course, she was more than willing to take on worse jobs, but the house-elf taskmaster (a particularly old and wise elf that oversaw the day-to-day running of the school) knew her limits better than she did, and therefore gave her work less often.

When Snape had offered her her services to him (a strange offer, of course) she had tearfully accepted with tearful and glad eyes. His rooms were particularly spotless after that - and as Hempy looked more alive than she ever did, he was content to keep it that way.

Hempy, upon calling to him, then realized what had happened. "Oh… dear."

Snape's wand was shaking in his hand - not out of fear or panic, but out of rage. "Hempy, I am not in any condition to cast magic now." He stated in a calm, belied voice. "Clean this up for me, would you?"

Hempy nodded. "Of course, professor." She immediately popped away and back, bringing cleaning towels with her. Within seconds, she started scrubbing away at the mess of wine he had made.

Snape, ignoring her, staggered over to his private bathroom. His right hand - his wand arm - was punctured by many different shards of glass. Even with Occlumency, even with experience and age, accidental magic would never truly leave. Leaning over the sink, Snape pulled the remains of his glass from his palm, shard by shard.

He would be in this situation if it weren't for Black… and Pettigrew.

"In _my_ school," he seethed. "That man… that rat… "

It was late April, and Dumbledore had called all of his fellow professors to a conference an hour earlier. There, in no uncertain terms, he explained what he and _Lupin_ had discovered. As much as Snape hated to admit it, their logic was sound, even if it stretched a few times. In hindsight, the explosion spell didn't have any extra magical effects - it was a simple explosion - so a finger remaining so perfectly intact, _unburned_, while the rest of the body wasn't even ashes... yes, it had been looking them in the nose.

Peter had been breaking the law, no two turns about it. Snape could have shoved another of those damn _Marauders_ (he had only learned the name an hour ago, but knowing where it came from made it taste like ashes in his mouth) in Azkaban, but had no idea.

He, like every other moronic wizard, thought that Black was alone in his crimes. But who would suspect that the wolf and the rat would be working together? Oh, sure, Dumbledore thought that Black had come to _kill_ the rat, even though the rat was previously a friend.

Far more likely was the rat staying in hiding to rescue Black - Snape was a spy for the Dark Lord, but he was hardly the only one. The Dark Lord knew that if his spies all knew of each other, their chances of staying secret grew larger. They answered to him alone.

Black and Pettigrew were a team, and then, once Black was found out, they stage Pettigrew's death so that he could break Black out later. Why else would Pettigrew hide, but for concealing a Dark Mark? Another of the Death Eaters - maybe Yaxley - must have known of this! It was the only explanation!

And everyone looked at him like he was crazy!

The looking glass shattered, and Snape sneered into it. Then, pulling out the last shard of glass from his palm, he sat down on the loo.

He had been trying to dull the anger with alcohol earlier, but ironclad Occlumency prevented it from fully taking effect until now. But with his sanity returning, Snape began to devise and alter plans.

Lupin was soft - he hadn't come out with the truth when it mattered, so why on _Earth_ would Snape be able to trust him now? He had begged Dumbledore to hand over the investigation to him, but Dumbledore had shut him down, reminding him in private to take care of Harry.

That was a priority, that was always a priority, but this was too big to ignore. Summer break would be arriving soon, and Lupin would have all the time in the world to find the traitors. That couldn't be allowed to happen since Snape knew that he would have all the opportunity to mess it up. This was Snape's hunt, not the werewolf's.

Snape couldn't even use the fact that Lupin _was_ a werewolf against him. He hadn't done anything illegal or wrong - the illegal thing he had done was not register the Marauders as Animagi, which was only a fine even for werewolves. And as loathe as he was to admit it, the Hogwarts coffers were more than willing to pay bail.

Killing Lupin by messing up the Wosfbane Potion was also off the table. Snape had shown, time and time again, that he could safely brew the potion. Dumbledore would suspect him if he did it on purpose, and that damned Sneakoscope would tell all. The protective charms against it were only known to manufacturers, of which he was not.

Lucius was a legitimate Death Eater, so Snape knew he couldn't trust him with this. Childhood hatred aside, the two traitors were clearly servants of the Dark Lord.

Snape would have to go after the two himself - but he would only have three months, the summer break, to do it. Lupin would have every advantage imaginable - personal experience with the two, a werewolf's nose, all the aid Dumbledore could give him. Black and Pettigrew had Animagi and Anima on their side as well as any Dark Magic the Dark Lord would have taught them. Snape, comparatively, had nothing.

But he was used to that.

Plans of attacks, methods of searching all of these broiled in Snape's wand as he opened and closed his hand with slight pain. Withdrawing his wand, he waved his wand, vanishing the glass and casting _Episkey _to heal himself of the pain.

He was back, he was in control.

He would win. And they would lose.

* * *

(Many months ago)

So it wasn't as easy as he thought.

It took him a fortnight to arrive at the doors of Hogwarts. As it turned out, he was rusty with his magic, and couldn't control it enough for any glamours to stretch only to his body. Even if he accounted for the distortion in the perception of others, the mechanical parts and the electronics inside the airplanes were too complex and advanced for his magic to not interfere with.

With the quick and easy route gone, and him not remembering the British Isles well enough for teleportation, he had to leg it (taking a boat would be slower than just enhancing his speed to well over a hundred kilometers an hour).

If he rushed and went non-stop, he could have been there in only two or three days. But a body needed energy, even an immortal body like his. So with stops for food and sleep, that extended the trip to over a week.

Then there was the matter of _finding_ Hogwarts. It wasn't on any maps, being Unplottable, so Al-Fazeta had to find a wizard and get directions to Hogwarts - and when that didn't work, directions to the closest wizarding marketplace.

That brought him to 'Diagon Alley', where he learned how to use 'Floo Powder'. There, he learned that Hogwarts was right next to a village called 'Hogsmeade'.

So he flooed to Hogsmeade, and with a short walk and many, _many_ stares later, he arrived.

From there, Al-Fazeta knew he had to find the redhead boy. Turning invisible and using mind reading on a nearby student, he learned that the boy was a 'Gryffindor', which resided in a tower.

So he tried to teleport - and failed. Defenses… he would have to turn invisible.

Snapping his fingers, he walked up the staircases and arrived at the tower. There, he phased through the walls (a neat trick he learned from studying Ghost-types) and entered the common room.

Red and gold flashed in his eyes. There were a few older teenagers there, doing homework and reading. He focused on a pair of redheads - ones with hair similar to the boy's - and found out that they were his brothers, Fred and George. They knew nothing of Anima… only that the 'Boggart' was now a Misdreavus.

The boy was in classes, so he laid in wait in their dormitory (he had waited this long, he could wait longer). Then, several hours later, the boys returned. Immediately, he sensed from their auras that several of them had awakened their Animas - the redhead, a thin one with a strange scar and a stranger aura, and a slightly round and chubby one.

Eventually, they fell asleep. He relaxed - finally, he could retrieve the amulet, Using a hypnotic spell on the boy, he walked calmly to his side, brushed away a terrified and awake rat (there was something… strange about it too, but none of his concern), and unbuttoned the top of the boy's nightclothes.

The amulet was missing. Al-Fazeta narrowed his eyes. He closed his eyes, trying to sense his aged enchantments that lied in his amulet. There weren't any nearby.

He snapped his eyes open and rifled through the boy's mind. He was sleeping, so it made it exponentially more difficult to sift between lies and truth, dreams and memories… but he found the answer after a short while.

Malfoy - Draco Malfoy - had stolen the amulet, with the aid of a 'Wormtail', not that Al-Fazeta honestly cared. It had been stolen thousands of times prior, several centuries ago. That theft was tamed compared to some of the wars fought over it in far-forgotten civilizations.

There was no point in sticking around here, though. The boy had failed, the amulet in another's hands. He no longer mattered.

Al-Fazeta snapped his hands, and the shirt buttoned itself. With another snap, the rat that had smelled him fell sound asleep. Walking out of the dormitory, he strolled through the school corridors. It took him a while, but he found someone who was awake - a cantankerous janitor. Reading the caustic man's mind while he scrubbed the floors, he learned of the location of the 'Slytherin' common rooms - in the dungeons. In a quarter-hour, he was there

Phasing through the walls once more, he entered the dormitory and closed his eyes. It was on the edge of his senses, but… there it was. Walking through the stairs and the door, he arrived in the third years' dormitory.

And there, on the Malfoy's bedside table was the amulet.

Finally.

Al-Fazeta walked forward and grabbed it as the boy next to him slept on. It shined as it usually did. He slipped it on.

Now he could leave.

'_Boo_.' Al-Fazeta turned around. There was the Misdreavus that were so prominent in the twins' memories. '_How are you doing, immortal_?'

"Quite fine, thank you," He said, walking past to phase through the walls and avoid a lengthy conversation - only to find his phasing ability blocked. He sighed, then turned to the Misdreavus who was blocking his abilities. "Why?"

'_I wish to speak_,' she whispered. '_After all, you are the first who doesn't lose life energy._'

"Yes, immortality does that to you. May I please leave?" He could probably force the Misdreavus to leave.

'_Why have you come?_" The Misdreavus asked instead.

He lifted the amulet. "Take a guess."

'_That amulet… the one that gave me this wonderful new form_.' She tilted the head. '_Why do you wish to take it?_'

"Because it is mine. I made it as part of a set of artifacts, and when I checked on where the amulet came from, I found that the rest were there as well. I'm tired of having it in the hands of others, for them to spread war and anger."

'_So you are taking it to protect others from it_.' The Misdreavus stated.

"Essentially," Al-Fazeta shrugged.

'_And what of the other artifacts?_'

"I will summon them - see?" He held out his hand and called on the staff.

It didn't come.

Al-Fazeta narrowed his eyes and called on the scroll. It didn't come either. The ring… no, not it either.

There was only one explanation. Another wielder, _somewhere_. He couldn't summon unless there were no other wielders.

He searched around, the Misdreavus hovering over him as he did so. There, he found the scroll at the boy's side. It still worked… but when he tried to call the staff to his side, it wasn't summoned.

He breathed a tired sigh. "So… looks like it won't be that easy after all," he said, fingering the amulet. "Someone, somewhere, is in control of one of the other artifacts. Someone who must have gotten it recently as well… I doubt the redhead would have given the scroll to Malfoy as well.

'_So, what does this mean, then?_' The Misdreavus asked, circling around Al-Fazeta.

Al-Fazeta looked at the amulet, which he took off. There it glinted, uncaring of the havoc it could cause.

"It would be best if I took the amulet with me... " he began, before shaking his head. "But you won't let me, will you?"

The Misdreavus only grinned dementedly. '_Took you long enough_.'

"What will it take for you to not tell all the wizards I was here?" He could not use the amulet to his advantage, and he didn't know how advanced wizarding technology was. In other words, he was putting himself at a higher risk by taking the amulet with him - its absence would be evidence the Misdreavus could show to let the wizards know he was here.

Al-Fazeta was strong, but you couldn't pit him against the entirety of the world and expect him to win.

'_... hm… _' The Misdreavus smiled hard. She was trying to exploit his position of weakness - and without the other artifacts, there was no way he could force her to do as he wished. '_Let's see… no, I can't think of anything.'_ She said after a minute.

"Nothing?"

'_I have everything I could want, and you have nothing to offer to make me shut up,_' she said plainly. '_What's more, that amulet… it interests me further._'

"You could come with me to find the rest of the artifacts, you know - I wouldn't mind a companion."

'_Tempting offer, but I already have a friend here that needs company… no, I won't tell anyone you came if you leave the amulet here_.'

Unfortunately, that was at odds with what Al-Fazeta could provide… unless, of course…

Al-Fazeta hadn't used his Smithing in… oh, who knows how long? But, with such close proximity to his creation, the method he used to make it came rushing back to him. He couldn't alter the facets of other artifacts, but he _could_ alter how these two were summoned.

Al-Fazeta placed his hands over the amulet and the scroll and pulled on his magic. The nearly invisible scriptures on the amulet changed, and the texture of the scroll did too. Within five minutes, he was done.

Al-Fazeta walked across the room and snapped with his right hand. Soundlessly, the amulet and scroll appeared in front of him. Snapping with the left hand, they returned to where they were.

He cradled the amulet around the Malfoy boy's neck and tested it again. Sure enough, the snap-summon would only work for him, as the amulet's creator. Cradling it once more around the boy's neck, he turned the Misdreavus.

"What's your name?" He asked.

'_Phoebe_,' she said.

"Phoebe… very well then. Phoebe, feel free to play with those artifacts as you desire. I don't care who gets it, who uses it, or if you throw it a pile of dung. When I want the amulet, it will come back to me."

'_... you're only doing this so no one will believe me when I tell them, aren't you_?' Phoebe said, annoyed.

"I'd love to silence you, but as a Ghost-type, you have immunity over most of what I can do. What I can use against you will be against the whole point of silencing you."

Then Al-Fazeta walked out of the Slytherin dormitories, and within a quarter-hour, he was outside the Hogwarts doors. No one knew he was there. Ignoring the Dementors on his return trip, he teleported back to Egypt.

"So… that was a nice couple of weeks." He had secured two of the artifacts, which was a boon. But the other five were lost to the wind, and they could be _anywhere_.

Al-Fazeta pulled the brim of his hat down. "Time to get to investigating."

* * *

_**End of Year 3**_

* * *

**So that's year 3 down. Next time, we'll be coming up in the summer before year four. Honestly, I'm skipping over the second half of book three because really there's not much there. Harry will still get his firebolt, but there's no stripping down (cause really, Black could have done so much worse) and he still learns the Patronus, Hermione still has her Time Turner (which I mostly glossed over, as well as Hermione in general because her more interesting motivations come into play in later books), and Ron still loses Scabbers.**

**Not much changes. There's no map or cloak, so 'Snape's Grudge' can't happen, the finale against Back can't happen, Buckbeak dies because everyone was preoccupied this time around thanks to the amulet, and, well... not much else happens.**

**Uh... I'm not that much of a scientist, and it was more of Farran and Neville messing around with magic than anything. To be fair, they're eleven and thirteen, and one hasn't ever heard of science before. Farran is more knowledgeable than anything, though he wishes to be a scientist.**

**Honestly, I wish there was more I could say, but I'm coughing, hacking, and wheezing, I'm doing poorly in college, my body is sore, I can't concentrate... I don't think I can write that well either. I'm taking a bit of a break from this fic. I'll return in a couple of months to write book four (heck, I might not even take a break if things go weirdly enough).**

**There's a bit of foreshadowing, somethings with Al-Fazeta you can pick up on hopefully (think about his name). Next Year, more Pokemon characters show up, Sable Hatch will become relevant again, and the tournament gets a bit weird.**

**Hope to see you then!**


	13. Waving Wands

_*Thump!_*

Harry eyed the books in front of him with a raised eyebrow. "Farran, I'll have enough work from _Hogwarts_ to do during the holidays. I don't need," he picked up one of the thinner books. "_The Fundamental Guide to Physics_. After all, I'm a _wizard_," he reminded Farran. "These are all stuff for _Muggles_ \- magic just sort of… ignores all of the physics and stuff."

"But _how_?" Farran impressed. "And what exactly can - and can't - it ignore? Are there things that magic _can't_ do? What are the _rules_ behind 'magic', and why?"

"Maybe you should ask Hermione all this," Harry said, feeling a little creeped out. "Really, this is all things that she needs to do."

"Harry, she's swamped with work as is, and she's not my cousin. You're barely doing anything, anyway - seriously, are your only friends wizards?"

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, and so are yours."

"Yep - and that's why I'm spending my time reading, to fill the time. In the last few weeks that we've been here, I have yet to see you do _anything_. Really, what do you do all day?"

There wasn't really an answer he could give. He did chores often enough, but he despised those. That, and he had gotten old enough that those took far less time to do than they used to. Aunt Petunia put him to work, but there was only so much he could do before she struggled to find even the most meager of tasks. Eventually, they just decided to leave him alone.

So, for the most part, Harry just wandered Little Whinging. There just wasn't that much for him to do, in all honesty - no library card or inclination for one, no money to buy anything, nothing.

Harry didn't really have any Muggle friends, either - Dudley had made sure of that. It would have been weird, anyway, since he would have had to keep a load of secrets from them. He had no one to visit, then.

"I could find a… sport to play," he eventually said. "I like Quidditch, and that's sort of like basketball." Not that he was tall - Ron had him beat in that department.

"With what ball? And with who will you play with." And there Farran went, crushing that idea.

"Well, I'm not _like_ you or Hermione. I can't sit around reading books all day." He swept _The Fundamental Guide to Physics_, though the desk in his room was as messy as ever. "I barely remember anything from primary, and I don't care either way." It had been several years since he had to use anything from Muggle primary - all Hogwarts really needed was the ability to read and write, though according to Hermione they used some maths in Arithmancy.

Farran pursed his lips. "So then you're back to square one."

"I'm _fine_ with doing nothing." Harry insisted, getting a little irritated. "I've spent _years_ locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I know how to deal with unending boredom!"

"The cupboard under the stairs?" Farran raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Until I got my Hogwarts letter, the Dursleys made me sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. When the letter was addressed there, they moved me to the room to try and confuse whatever sent the letters."

"I'm pretty sure leaving you there was illegal."

Harry snorted. "Maybe - but honestly, do you think the Dursleys cared?"

"And the police?"

"Uncle Vernon has an in there, some old friend from Smeltings. I tried telling them once, and got locked in the cupboard for a few months because of it."

Farran grimaced. "That's…"

"In the past," Harry said. "Nothing else worked either."

"Do you plan on pressing charges eventually?"

Harry honestly hadn't. "It's in the past," he still insisted. "Now that I'm a wizard, those days are _over_. Chores are as bad as they ever get now - that, and shouting loudly."

Farran continued grimacing.

Harry then sighed. "I'm not going to spend my entire summer reading, Farran. I'm just going to wait until I can leave for Hogwarts - that, or the Burrow."

Farran's grimace fell into a thoughtful frown. "Well, what about Diagon Alley?"

"That's in London, and I have no money for a taxi." If it wasn't for the International Statute of Secrecy (and the fact that he had no broom), Harry would just fly there. Either way, he had no way of getting there.

"I could fly you there," Farran offered.

"You can fly?"

Farran transformed into his Anima - 'Metang', Ron had called it. Farran flew around his room as Metang, frightening Hedwig a little bit. She began hooting madly, and Harry realized that the Dursleys would find out.

"Okay, I get it, you can fly!" Farran transformed back. Harry stuffed an Owl Treat into Hedwig's beak to calm her down, then turned back to Farran. "Are you saying you'll fly me to London?"

Farran nodded. "I can fly up to a hundred kilometers an hour, and going straight to London takes only an hour or so at a leisurely cruise." More than enough time from him to go and come back from Diagon Alley in time. "I've already figured out a route to go to Diagon Alley without being seen, and have gone a couple of times."

Harry felt pangs of jealousy. Farran had found a use for his Anima form too, then. Ignoring elemental powers, his Anima form couldn't do anything - Ron's Anima had an exceptional sense of smell, Farran's could fly, and he didn't even _want_ to get started on what Hermione's Anima could do if she felt like using it. All he could really do was glow a bit and make sparks - hardly the most useful of powers.

Of course, he didn't have it as bad as Neville did - Neville had a normal dog for an Anima. Just a normal dog, though Neville didn't seem to care that much when Harry asked him about it that one time.

Still…

"What's the catch," Harry asked warily.

Farran grinned. "You spend an h-" Farran paused, then his eyes lit up. "Two hours in the morning studying with me."

"Just two hours?" Harry could stomach two hours of reading dry Muggle nonsense if it meant going to Diagon Alley for the day.

"Two hours each day." And there it was. "Well, you _could_ only do it once, if that's all you'll be able to take - but then, I can only take you to Diagon Alley once." Farran was unabashedly grinning, a stark contrast to Harry's sour expression.

After a few minutes, Harry sighed. "Thirty minutes," he argued.

"Hour and forty-five."

"Forty minutes."

"Hour and a half."

"Fifty minutes."

"Hour and twenty."

Harry then grimaced. "Fine, then. One full hour, not raising it anymore."

Farran mulled over Harry's final offer a little longer. "Fine - on another condition."

"No more studying," Harry warned. "Deal's off if you ask me to study more than that."

"I was thinking that you could toss my a Galleon or two every once in a while - hand me some pocket change, you know?" Farran smiled. "That's _my _final offer."

Harry thought about it for a bit. He could spare a few Galleons. "... fine. An hour studying each morning and I hand you a few Galleons. Though, you take me there today free of any charge."

"Deal." Farran stuck out a hand, and they shook on it. "Want to go now?"

* * *

Farran saw the light sparkle in Harry's eyes. It was almost certain that he'd want to go back tomorrow, to escape the Dursleys and enjoy the magical world - and that meant that Farran would have a bit of leverage over him.

"Here's your fare," Harry said, tossing him a Galleon, before rushing off to look at the brooms. Farran knew that Harry had broken his old one in the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and that he'd be looking for a replacement sooner rather than later. Either way, they captivated Harry's attention, leaving Farran to enjoy the Alley on his own.

As much as he loved the Muggle half of the world and the raw amount of knowledge compared to, he had to admit that the Dursleys were hardly the best company. Concerned with their image and looking as 'normal' as possible (a complex, maybe), the native members of the household considered books and learning to be in the realm of sissies and people who were trying to compensate for a lack of muscles.

In short, they were people that he was only willing to interact with through several inch-thick walls of stainless steel - those that normally would be occupied by his father.

The rest of Little Whinging was hardly enjoyable either. There was a library, but one of poor quality and few books. He'd had to buy _The Fundament Guide to Physics_ from a London bookstore - there was nothing worth reading in the Little Whinging library. Most of the inhabitants were watered-down versions of the Dursleys - snobbish, prude, and all too dismissive of actual education. The name of the little town served it well.

Really, Harry was the only one worth talking too - moody and rude as he was in Little Whinging, he was still ten times more polite and intelligent than the average resident. Farran had decided earlier he'd make Harry more enjoyable to talk to, hence the book and the deal.

Although, he'd have to teach Harry about the anchoring bias later to make sure he didn't get scammed by someone wanting his money. Harry was paying for both of their tuitions after all.

Farran grimaced as he flipped the Galleon over and over in his hand. He'd plan on using the Galleon for Floo Powder to visit Neville and continue their experiments - maybe not with their own magic, but with the analysis of a plant's magic - but he realized that those experiments would require even more money.

After all, true experiments need lots of trials and repetitions, and while the Galleon would more than pay for the Floo Powder, they wouldn't even come close to paying for the number of plants they'd need, and according to Neville, his grandmother was incredibly stingy with the family fortune.

While Farran planned on visiting the London Library soon - there was a much larger wealth of books there than Little Whinging could ever dream of, and he would definitely spend a lion's share of his time there - Farran knew that he needed another source of income, other than the occasional Galleon Harry would deign to send his way. That, and he couldn't spend every single day in the library.

Farran had already asked Flourish and Blotts if he could be an assistant - maybe he'd be able to get a small discount for books that way - but Ravenclaws had already capitalized on the opportunity and already found their way in the job market. Florean Fortescue was manned by two fifth-year Hufflepuffs, the Leaky Cauldron was being worked by Tom the Barman on his own (which he had made _especially_ clear to Farran), and he couldn't even ask the owner of the Apothecary for an interview without a surly-eyed Slytherin shooing him away for 'stepping on his turf'.

The nerve of some people.

After that, Farran realized that _all_ of the shops in Diagon Alley had Hogwarts students looking to make a quick Galleon for whatever purpose. He wouldn't be able to find a job in the Muggle world either, not while he was still twelve.

So where could he find work?

Then there was a small flash of light from one of the neighboring shops. It immediately drew his attention - the wand shop, Ollivanders.

Well, he hadn't tested _all_ the shops, and Ollivanders certainly was unique.

Surpassing any fear and caution he may have had, Farran opened the door to Ollivanders and walked inside.

Ollivander looked up at the tinkling of the doorbell. "Ah, Mister Evans! Walnut, eleven inches, flexible. I must ask that you wait while I continue fitting this fine lady."

Other than Ollivander, there was a small brown-haired girl inside, getting outfitted to her wand. Farran nodded and sat on the stool in the corner while Ollivander continued outfitting her with wands and seeing which ones had better reactions.

It was a slow process. Farran saw the witch getting impatient, the polite smile on her face cracking inch by inch. None of the wands seemed to work, which Farran found a little surprising, as Ollivander managed to find _his_ wand right away. Then again, speeds of matching might depend on the person.

Ollivander only grew more and more delighted as the search process went on longer and longer, smiling brighter and brighter. "A tricky one, aren't you?"

"Mr. Ollivander, can you _please_ find one that will match," she stressed with frustration and barely repressed anger. Farran stifled a small snicker, drawing the witch's attention. Her fake smile cracked even further as she saw Farran's poorly concealed mirth. "Why don't we try - I don't know, that one!" She pointed at a random wand in the corner of the shelves.

"The wand chooses the wizard, dear." Nonetheless, he brought it down for her to wave. When it caused the shelves to quake, he then whipped it out of her hand. "That wand could never have fitted you."

"Then find some that will!" Pretenses of patience were gone, and a much more honest smirk was in it place.

Ollivander thought for a moment. "I believe that there are a few interesting combinations we haven't tried yet," he stated at last. "Permit me to retrieve them." Then, before she could say a word, Ollivander glided into the back room, collecting wands for the witch to try out.

The witch turned to Farran. "What's your _problem_?" She seethed. "Enjoying me try out wands? Aren't you a little old to be going to Hogwarts?" She then sneered. "Or did you break your old one, like a clumsy idiot?"

Good god, the witch's insults were pathetic. Farran just continued smirking, riling up the girl even more.

Then she smirked, and for some reason, Farran was left feeling wary. "_Why don't you just bugger off and leave me alone_?" She suggested in a nonchalant tone. The words were tinged with an immature weight of command as if she were used to getting her way. Dudley had a similar tone, which would often get the elder Dursleys to do whatever he wanted.

And then it happened. Farran's Occulmency barriers were suddenly under attack, and then s_omething_ started leaking through. Thoughts that weren't his own started leaking in Slowly, all Farran could think about was buggering off and leaving this witch alone…

… until he moved a muscle. Once he shifted around, his body rising of its own accord, the witch relaxed and the pressure lifted. Farran instantly regained control, sat right back down, and breathed a sigh of relief - and now it was the witch's turn to freeze in confusion in terror.

"Why aren't you…" she whispered. Farran was about to either accuse her or maybe use Legilimency to uncover what on _earth_ she was trying to do to him, but then Ollivander returned. Farran grimaced - he didn't know how Ollivander would react if he saw the two of them in a battle of the mind, and Farran had to keep his eyes on the prize. Still, he was left with a strong desire to leave the building - the remnants of her attack.

It took only a minute to burn those vestiges of implanted desire away, and yet still Farran knew he had to redouble his training. Still, as long as Ollivander was here, there would likely be little chance of her using that strange Legilimency again… unless she used it on Ollivander.

"Try this!" Ollivander handed the new witch another wand. "Silver lime, rigid, with a length eight and a half inches."

The witch took the wand impatiently and waved it. Then sparks soared out of the tip, green, yellow, and silver. Her impatient yet also nervous look was replaced with pure delight, and Ollivander smiled widely. "Excellent, my dear. A wand well suited to Seers and Legilimens, truly rare talents in this day and age." Farran immediately perked up at that, though the witch looked more confused than anything.

Still, she said nothing and gripped her wand tighter. "Uh… okay." She grabbed a pouch full of Galleons. "How much for the wand, Mr. Ollivander."

"Seven Galleons, my dear."

"_I think that it could be lowered_-" The power of her voice was immediately cut off by a probe of Legilimency from Farran. The weight behind her words was back - she was using it on purpose, for her own benefit. She immediately stopped talking and twisted around to look at Farran, who looked challengingly back.

"Lowered?" Ollivander asked, a small hazy look appearing in his eyes. "I… believe…" The hazy look faded away, to be replaced by Ollivander shaking his head. "I apologize, Miss Hatch, but I have kept the rate for wands consistent for decades. If you have financial troubles, you can get aid, but-"

"No, no, never mind," the witch - Hatch, Ollivander called her - backpedaled. "I have plenty of Galleons, and was just in the mood for haggling." That _wasn't_ haggling. "Here are the Galleons." She quickly paid, took her wand, and fled as quickly as she could. Farran and Ollivander watched as Hatch left the building in the blink of an eye, gripping her new wand like a lifeline.

"An interesting girl isn't she," Ollivander said after a minute of them waiting. "A mix of arrogance, naivety, and yet a small bud of immature anxiety… what brings you here today, Mr. Evans. Have you come to get a replacement for your wand?"

"No," Farran responded, pulled out his wand. "It's fine, as you can see- hey!" Ollivander whipped the wand out of Farran's hands and began inspecting it.

"Hm… other than a little cleaning, the wand looks as good as new," Ollivander quickly pronounced, handing it back to an irritated Farran. "Wiping it with a fine cloth every one to two weeks will be adequate for now - though, once it grows older, it _will_ need more care."

"... thank you," Farran said - though, he wanted to know why wand care wasn't something mentioned earlier. "Why is it important to keep a wand clean?"

Ollivanders' eyes lit up. "'Why', you ask, 'is it important to keep a wand clean'. Well, Mister Evans, the wand is an incredible magical object, with incredible power - however, that power may be siphoned away by certain materials, like oil, that can absorb it like a sponge."

Farran's mouth opened wide. "Oil _absorbs_ magic?"

"Not to any extreme effect - but it does act as a small drain on the overall efficacy of your spells. For incredibly delicate spells, an extra layer from unwashed wands can have disastrous consequences - particularly if the wand isn't wiped."

Farran gritted his teeth - and then his resolve turned to steel. "Mr. Ollivander… please let me be your apprentice!"

There was a poignant silence in the room. Ollivander's previous cheery demeanor vanished to be replaced with, for once, a solemn seriousness.

"I need to know more about magic," Farran continued. "I've read all the theory books I could about it, but none of them answer any questions! It's all 'if you do this, that happens' and 'if this happens, do that to fix it', and none of them make any sense! There are patterns, but most of them are arbitrary and nonsensical!"

Ollivander said nothing but continued gazing at Farran.

"Until I'm allowed to do any magic of my own accord, I won't be able to learn by myself - so please, teach me what you know about magic, about wands, about - about _everything_!" Farran was choking at this point. "I…"

"Mister Evans," Ollivander said, with a polite tone in his voice. "Perhaps you will find the answers you seek in the Department of Mysteries." There was a strange detachment to his voice at this.

"I can't - not when I'll be forced to keep whatever I learn a secret." Knowledge was meant to be shared, and while Farran didn't exactly mind keeping the occasional secret or two, the secret to _magic_ was a bit much. Farran always found himself biting his tongue whenever anyone asked him about Phoebe, and when he was learning Legilimency he found it difficult to not let information out.

Honestly, Farran didn't know _why_ he was keeping the whole Anima thing secret either - but then again, he felt detached from the idea of Anima as a whole, and didn't care too much about it in the end.

"A secret? You are against the hoarding of knowledge, then." Ollivander asked with a small smile on his face. "I see… but there are many far more knowledgeable of magic than a simple wandcraftsman like myself."

"Maybe, but then they don't share their knowledge as freely as you do." Farran, looking in the Ravenclaw library, found nothing pointing to a true explanation of magic. He had looked in the Hogwarts library as well, but there was nothing he had found yet that would be anything remotely supported by evidence. "And since you're the most famous and skilled of the wandcraftsmen, I figured that you would know about magic more than others."

"You overestimate my abilities, Mister Evans." Still, even with that, Farran could sense pleasure from the old man. "But it's been a long time since I've taught wandcraft - decades, ever since my son finished learning from me. Of course, he's forsaken the trade for being a Herbologist." There was a small smile on Ollivander's face as if he thought no less of his son for it.

"So you're teaching me then?" Farran asked.

"Perhaps," Ollivander said at last. "There is one thing you should do before I agree to apprentice you." Ollivander waved his wand, and the sign at the front of the shop flipped to show that the store was closed. "Follow me."

Farran wordlessly followed Ollivander to the back of the shop. A small stray thought occurred to him - he was perhaps the first person other than Ollivander in decades to enter the backroom.

However, the inside was surprisingly clean. There were no dust bunnies, and the inside was well swept. Compared to the slightly messy inside, the backroom was well-lit and organized. Many rows of boxed wands lay on the wall, but there was also a shop table with dozens of drawers - where Ollivander most likely made his wands. Three opaque jars stood on a shelf next to the table, one red, one orange, and the last white.

Ollivander stepped forward and grabbed the three jars on the shelf. Slowly unscrewing the lid of the red one, he removed a slimy red string. Opening the orange, he removed a bright feather of the same color. Finally, from the white one, he took a long white hair.

"They're wand cores, aren't they," Farran stated softly. Ollivander nodded, bringing them over to Farran and dropping them in his hands. Farran didn't know quite what to think.

"What do you want me to do with them," Farran asked eventually.

Ollivander pointed to the drawers of the desk. "Inside, there are shells of wands I have previously prepared for crafting - though, you will not need to place the cores inside. Rather, I wish for you to match three of the shells to the cores."

"... how?"

"That, Mister Evans, is for you to figure out." Ollivander winked. "And with that, good luck. Once you have found a match for each of the cores, come show them to me. That will determine whether I will take you on."

"But how do you match them-" Ollivander Apparated away, leaving him alone in the back room.

"Did he just leave me?" Farran asked incredulously. The air didn't answer back.

Farran sighed, before looking at the wand cores gripped in his hand. Dragon heartstring, phoenix feather, and unicorn tail. The three cores for wands. Opening one of the drawers, he found hundreds of different wand woods jumbled together

How was he supposed to match the cores to the wooden shells? All of the shells looked similar - Farran supposed that if he tried, he could identify them, but there were several shells of the same type of wood and length.

And when he took a look and the boxes of the wands on the wall, he found that the mixing of cores and shells were completely random - there was no correlation between wand wood type and core type.

This task wasn't impossible, by any stretch - Ollivander had to have _some_ way of matching woods to cores - but Farran didn't even realize he had to clean his wand until fifteen minutes ago! How was he supposed to match them?

Farran grimaced, as he took one of the wand shells from the drawer. There was nothing to mark or distinguish it from the others, and Farran put it back after a second. He then put down the cores and sat down.

There had to be _some_ method to matching them - maybe if he eliminated what _couldn't_ be the wood, he would be left with the ones that _could_ be the wood.

For starters, he would ignore any of the wooden shells that weren't of the same size as the cores - that way, the cores would fit.

Farran grabbed the wand woods of the draw and sorted them by length, before arranging the cores next to them. Now was the hard part… finding the actual matches.

… he was no closer than he was before.

Farran clenched his fists. What kind of a stupid test was this? How was this supposed to test his aptitude? Did Ollivander think he already knew the art of wandcraft?

… no, he didn't. Ollivander wasn't surprised when he showed Farran how to clean his wand - Ollivander knew full-well he knew nothing. Either Ollivander was riling him up, or… this was something he had to figure out on his own. No prior knowledge…

… just guessing.

Wizards _loved_ that sort of idiocy - 'believe in your heart' and that tripe. Ollivander probably wanted him to have some sort of 'wizard's intuition' to guide him.

Farran pursed his lips. Blind guessing was as good a strategy as he had so far - that is to say, no strategy - and accidental magic was the whole reason he was a wizard in the first place. Farran had no idea how to go forward, and he wasn't going to run out of time any time soon - it was worth a shot either way.

He put the phoenix feather and the unicorn tail away, and focused on the dragon heartstring. Dragon heartstring… maybe if he tried pairing it with this pine casing?

He put them next to each other, to see if it… looked nice?

… it really didn't. The heartstring draped awkwardly over the pine casing, making it looked _diseased_, in some way. He dropped the pine casing and tried out a holly casing instead.

It looked just as awkward and dumb as it did before. Farran tried another two - chestnut and alder - and they looked as pathetic as the previous ones.

This was _pointless_. He was judging them based off of looks and other non-important attributes. There was no _way_ for him to find a pair - not one he would be confident in, at any rate.

This really was an impossible challenge, one designed to torture and humiliate him. Was Ollivander spying on him, laughing at him while he did this stupid 'test'? Maybe he was smirking and drinking a cup of tea, while he saw Farran wrestle with two materials that did not _want_ to go together!

… hold on.

Farran stared at the dragon heartstring and alder casing in his hand. These - they didn't _want_ to go together! 'They didn't match' - some weird part of his heart was screaming at him that they didn't go together.

Farran carefully put down the alder casing and put it away from the heartstring. That weird, _wrong_ feeling disappeared.

Maybe… if he was right… no, he had to test this _now_.

Farran closed his eyes, and slowly brought the heartstring near other casings. Another feeling of _wrongness_ came over him. Without opening his eyes, he lifted the heartstring and the feeling disappeared.

Could it… he had to run it over all of them.

Quickly laying down all of the casings on the floor, Farran closed his eyes and ran over them with the heartstring. Most of them carried that sense of wrongness, but… a couple _didn't_. They felt… satisfied, in some strange way.

Whenever Farran found one that made him feel satisfied, he removed it from the pile. Eventually, he ran through them all, leaving only three or so behind.

The core felt _happy _with these ones… or was he simply making up sensations out of frustration?

Farran marked the casings with a little bit of ink from a pot nearby, and threw them back into the pile and jumbled them around to randomize it. Then he went over the wands again with his eyes closed. - and the wrong feeling returned, with the satisfaction returning for only three of them again.

Farran looked at the new wands. The markings he made stared back at him clear as day. These were the wands he had picked.

One last trial. He once more threw them back into the pile, jumbled it up, closed his eyes, and ran through the pile. Again, he picked out three that felt remarkably different - and the three casings returned.

This wasn't some sort of confirmation bias - he had picked these three wands three times in a row. There were around three hundred different wand casings in the pile - three hundred choose three was ridiculously high, and cubing it made it exponentially higher

(Once he returned to the Muggle world, Farran ran the numbers on a calculator, and the odds of him choosing this trio was one in eighty-eight quintillion, so… )

Running the core over the three a few times, Farran felt it have an affinity to the elm one the strongest. Marking it with a one, he repeated the experiment from before with three instead of three hundred. The dragon heartstring repeatedly chose the elm over the other two.

That was a pair.

How the _hell_…

Farran shook his head, clearing himself of thoughts. Magic was - he could theorize later. Right now, the day was waning and he'd have to meet up with Harry later on. He had a new trick up his sleeve.

He repeated the earlier experiment with the unicorn tail. The sense of wrongness was different for the unicorn tail than the dragon heartstring, but it was still _wrong_. Two felt satisfactory enough, and repeat trials showed them to be reliably bonding with the unicorn tail. Of the two, the dogwood casing felt stronger, and repeated trials with that confirmed it.

Doing it one last time with the phoenix feather, and a new sense of wrongness coming over him, he nonetheless managed to find exactly one that felt right enough. Again, the repeat trials brought it to the forefront.

Farran grinned. Three cores, three casings. They all felt right together - though when he tried waving them around, he felt a sense of wrongness coming from them again - but when he let go, the sensation faded and was replaced with the satisfaction.

This was… hard to understand. Already, he had some pet theories going around - and Ollivander _did_ seem to judge people with their wands quickly enough.

"Mr. Ollivander?" He called out, putting the spare wand casings back. "I paired them."

Ollivander took a minute coming back. "Ah, you have?"

Farran eagerly nodded. "I hope they're to your liking." Because if they weren't, then he would have wasted an entire afternoon.

Ollivander walked over to the paired cores and casings and ran them over in his hands. "Hm… not a bad pair, I must say. They all are workable in of in themselves - though, I imagine there is a stronger pair deeper in the storerooms. Still, this would make a fine wand, once crafted properly."

It wasn't _quite_ what Farran was hoping for, but it was definitely better than 'you failed'. "So, I matched them properly?"

"Better than my colleagues - though, I must ask _how_ you did such a thing?"

Farran explained to him the process. Ollivander listened politely and patiently, and at last, a small smile appeared on his face.

"Your intuition is strong indeed - and though it can be honed, it is far stronger than my contemporaries. That, and your intelligence, speaks well of your potential."

"Does that mean you'll take me on?"

Ollivander chuckled. "Well, I suppose so." Ollivander looked at a strange watch on his wrist. "It is getting late, Mister Evans… but I must ask you to return tomorrow."

And Farran knew he definitely would.

* * *

Hermione sighed, attempting to temper her frustration. "Ron, why prank _me_?"

Fred and George grinned unabashedly at her, with Ron failing to conceal a smile of his own. Ron had just offered her a bag of crisps while she studied - and since dinner wasn't for a few hours, she decided to accept.

Cue her hair growing out of her armpits and her eyebrows almost making her _blind_.

Hermione quickly shifted into her Kirlia form and back again, removing the effects of the prank. As Fred and George still smiled and clapped Ron on the back, Hermione decided that she couldn't accept food from Ron any longer.

It had only been a week since she had come to the Burrow for the summer before Ron had revealed to her that the twins wanted to start 'passing on the pranking knowledge'. Apparently, their feud that winter had made the twins reflect - only, instead of them deciding to lay off the pranking of Ron, they _brought him up to their level_.

Ron wasn't a master of pranks, not yet, but so far he had managed to trick everyone in the Burrow at least once - now including her. And really, she should have been _expecting _it - she had sensed his glee from earlier but dismissed it as him pranking someone else.

"Well, I figured that it was about time I tried it on you. Honestly, I didn't think I was actually going to be able to get you to taste it."

"Really, Ronniekins, _fantastic_ job."

"Though I bet with a bit of wrangling, we could have done it faster."

Hermione exhaled. "Look, I'm glad you're _bonding_, but I need to concentrate." She tapped her books knowingly. "If I'm going to finish this before the Quidditch World Cup starts, I need to _focus_ and _not_ be dealing with one of your pranks!"

Ron laughed. "Hermione, there's no rush to finish it before the cup, we'll have plenty of time afterward."

"We might not," she countered. "The Cup can't go to time - it'll end when it ends. I'm not going to even _entertain _the possibility of being late." She turned back into a Kirlia - and with a blast of psychic power, lifted them out of the room. "So goodbye."

Then, after locking the door with psychic powers, she turned back. Really, being able to use an analog of magic was _incredibly_ useful. There seemed to be no repercussions to using the Anima, so Hermione took the opportunity when she could.

And there were plenty of uses as well. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she stuck her foot in her mouth - and while that could be credited to her growing maturity, she knew that the ability to sense emotions was useful in its own right, though its effects on her health were much less enjoyable.

There was also the matter of the illusions and the ability to sense into the future the Scroll mentioned. After a year of Divination, she still hadn't been able to find predict anything. She had asked around and it was more of the same in the upper years as well.

Hermione privately thought that Ron's proclamations of Trelawney being a crackpot weren't as half-baked as she initially thought them to be. Still, she'd continue to give the professor the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she'd eventually teach them something they could use.

And there was _nothing_ pointing to the ability for illusions.

Either way, there were plenty of abilities at her disposable - whether a few only said in the Scroll were real or not, she didn't know, but her dancing abilities had definitely improved, and with psychic and empathetic powers, she had a lot more freedom over the summer than she had previously. Ron only had the ability to breathe fire (a rather useless ability in day-to-day life) and an incredibly enhanced sense of smell.

Both were better than Harry's ability to glow brightly - _Lumos_ did the job better - or Neville's complete lack of anything.

Speaking of Harry, the owls he had sent her were rather surprising. Apparently, Farran had been forcing him to study Muggle topics, and he owled her to vent his complaints. More than anything, she was glad that he was learning - and she had recently bee relearning Muggle topics as well because of it. There was a _lot_ that she was missing, Hogwarts' curriculum only consisting of magical subjects.

After she graduated an obtained a new job, Hermione would have to take remedial classes and get proper qualifications - she didn't think she would _need_ them, but it would only feel right anyway.

But to graduate, she would first need to finish her Hogwarts education, and that meant finishing the essay in front of her.

But ten minutes later, Hermione found that she had only written a single sentence. Her thoughts were slow and sluggish, and she found it hard to come up with the necessary arguments for Professor Sprout's essay. She grimaced - were there any additional effects from the prank…

… no… she felt tired, more than anything else. She hadn't gotten enough sleep last night with Ginny joining the three brothers for a large pranking session. Maybe a small nap would… get her situated…

…

_Flames crackled around her, as small tents burned bright. Voices of different languages all screamed in panic and anger, and types of magic she could barely recognize were being flung all around._

_She was lost, and trying to find… something. Her wand wasn't with her, so she couldn't do any spells. She was on her own and would have to act independently._

_Then instinct told her to duck, and she did. A bright green curse flew over her - what kind of a curse was that?_

_Then her vision started to fade - a curse, exhaustion, she didn't know. The last thing she saw… was the image of a skull and snake in the sky._

…

Hermione jolted awake.

"Ugh… what an awful nightmare.." She felt no more rested than she did previously. Well, the arguments now could come to her at will, so at least she could continue writing the essay. So, banishing the bad dream to a small corner of her mind, she continued writing.

And until a small time later, that's all she would think of it as.

Just one bad dream.

* * *

**Anchoring is a cognitive bias where an individual depends too heavily on an initial piece of information offered (considered to be the "anchor") to make subsequent judgments during decision making. Once the value of this anchor is set, all future negotiations, arguments, estimates, etc. are discussed in relation to the anchor (Wikipedia, accessed June 2020)**

* * *

**Hermione is easily one of the more difficult characters to write - not because of any faults, but because of a lack of faults. Most of those canonical faults she has - being awkward and having foot-in-mouth in conversations, being poor in real-fights, withholding critical information at points - get resolved as the books go on, without much reason, to the point where the only real drawback she has in Book 7 is being _too_ rational and dismissing the Hallows early (there is the matter of the fights against Bellatrix, both rounds, but that's more the being beat by a superior opponent than anything else).**

**What's more, Hermione has _way _more advantages than anyone else, considering her incredible intelligence and powerful reasoning, deduction, creativity, and overall unmatched mental capabilities. I'm half sure Rowling removed her from most of the conflicts because of this.**

**So let's go down the years:**

**Y1: Hermione joins a quarter of the way through the year, and happens to forget about Flamel's existence. Since Flamel is obscenely obscure to the Wizarding World (_for some reason_), it takes her a few months to relocate the small passage where she read about him, prompted by Harry's rediscovery through the cards (I'm tempted to say that this is maybe a reference to the Magician Arcana of the tarot, now that I'm writing it). That obscurity was most-likely manufactured to make the mystery last longer, since after that, Norbert and the F.F. incident occurs, and Y1 moves to the endgame. There, Hermione carries them through two of the four trials (assisting in a third), before deciding that because she froze up at the troll, Harry had a better chance. That bit was good and was a nice reason for her to _not_ fight.**

**Y2: Aside from some foreshadowing from Dobby, the conflict only rears its head around Halloween. It takes a few months for Hermione to discover and _brew_ the Polyjuice - already heading into 'geez, what _can't_ she do' territory, landing us halfway through the year and down a false lead. Hermione is then 'catted' into of submission and then is removed entirely a few chapters later by the Basilisk. There she stays until the resolution - but she _still_ manages to half-resolve the mystery with her 'Pipes' clue.**

**Y3: Third-year is different because there isn't really a mystery for her to solve - it's more a twist at the end than anything else. Hermione spends most of the book studying, researching for Hagird off-page and arguing with Ron and Harry about nothing consequential. Though, to be fair, Y3 was more a 'support' year, with Hogsmeade, the Dementors, the Potters' fleshed out backstory, etc. Not much happening, and no real problems for her to solve until the end where she Deus-Ex-Machina's them to victory.**

**Y4: Hermione's time is mostly spent f***** around with SPEW, which exists _solely_ to give Hermione something to do for the length of the book (and to lead into some backstory from Winky, but that's beside the point). That, along with helping Harry with the tasks and nothing even remotely pointing to Moody aside from the odd clue that she never encounters means that Hermione does no mystery or problem-solving in Y4. Congratulations, Hermione, time well-spent.**

**Y5:Hermione never even encounters the mystery of the year - that of the mysterious door - before it doesn't matter anymore. Instead, she continues to basically ignore the problems around her, only marginally assisting with the D.A. - in which she _continues_ to be OP with the enchanted list and the fast-learning of defense spells. Of course, Rowling never really gets rid of Hermione's inability to fight, so she's mostly ignored towards the climax. **

**Y6: Basically more of Y5, only instead of the D.A., she deals with Slughorn and _romantic subplots. _*shivers*. Here and Y1, her faults are at their strongest, and she actually had hard problems to solve for a change (romantic, I mean. There are the Horcruxes and the matter of the Prince, but she doesn't really care about the latter aside from some half-hearted research. She had no chance of finding out the Horcruxes with Dumbledore's meddling). Other than that, she continues to be someone for Harry to spring ideas off of, along with Ron, and barely makes an appearance toward the finale of the book. **

**Y7: Hermione's competence goes on steroids early on. She pretty much single-handedly carries the Trio through the first half of the book, only really faltering when Ron leaves. Then she crashes, and without any leads to go off of, she and Harry wander around (breaking his wand) until Ron returns for the save. There, she then makes a reasonable choice of pushing Harry away from the Hallows, which ends up both ineffective and pointless, since Harry ignores her and in the end, he turns out to be right through nothing other than intuition. As the second half of the book revolves entirely around Harry, she doesn't really make an appearance save for destroying the Cup and losing against Bellatrix. **

**In a nutshell: Hermione starts off mega-competent, Rowling notices, doesn't nerf, and instead sticks her in quicksand to slow her down so Harry can do things. Then the focus of the story shifts away from mysteries to battles and she doesn't really get to do much of anything important (other than lose), until the very end. **

**So where does that leave _me_?**

**I have to competent characters now, Hermione and Farran. Both are intelligent and fast learners, but while I've developed Farran so that he isn't really much interested in Harry and Ron's problems and is basically doing his own thing with Neville, Ollivander and soon Sable, I still have to deal with Hermione. Given that I've changed things up a lot - I've removed Crookshanks and given her back her Time-Turner - I basically removed any presence she had in the year to stop her from solving _everything_. **

**With that, I'll basically do what Rowling did and give her _insane_ problems to solve, to stop her from ruining the stakes in either of the other plots. This chapter was forwarding Farran's narrative and beginning hers, so to speak - Ron's isn't really important right now.**

**Thank you for listening to my TED Talk.**

**Peace.**


	14. Facing Flames

The Quidditch World Cup! It was the first time that Ron had ever gone to see a professional match in person! Ireland vs. Bulgaria, Lynch vs. Krum! It would be the icing on top of the cake that this summer had been.

When Fred and George had first come offering to teach him how to prank people, Ron had been skeptical. The offer was probably another of their tricks; he wouldn't fall for it. But they were persistent and eventually won him over by saying that they'd teach it to Ginny if he refused again.

Ginny would have a field day knowing Fred and George's tricks, and wouldn't hesitate at all. Ron could take a single prank from Fred and George, but if they added Ginny into that mix? Merlin's beard, wouldn't that be a nightmare?

In an act that surprised Ron, they _did_ teach him how pranking worked. One of the first things that they told him was that there was a lot of work that they had to do beforehand; the twins had to make the pranks, with whatever things they had from a joke shop, like Dungbombs, or whatever the twins could concoct in twelve hours.

Then there was the matter of assembling the prank. Laying the trap, lacing the cream pie with the potion, the twins had to do whatever the joke needed to succeed. It took him a few tries to get the hang of it.

In the end, Ron found that he liked the art of pranking more than he had thought. Oh, he wouldn't do it on his own time, not by any stretch, but he was more than willing to help them and laugh alongside Fred and George when the time came.

Mum was mad, Dad was regretting everything, and Ginny had already come up to him promising retribution as soon as she could convince Fred and George how. Ron, already figuring out how to avoid a lot of Fred and George's pranks on him by learning how they placed the jokes, had dared her to try.

As for Percy, well, he didn't approve of it at all.

"Ron, I must impress upon you that this _isn't_ the way a wizard should go. Playing practical jokes on any Ministry official could lower your chances of being hired _significantly_!"

Ron didn't care about being hired for any job, and so ignored that 'warning' without pause, going on to put some Whinging Wake-Up Alarms under Percy's bed. The look on Percy's face afterward was worth the cold glares from Percy and the punishment from Mum.

Hermione didn't really like his pranking habits and let him know often. Still, she tolerated it far better than Mum did; honestly, though, Hermione should have been thanking her for forcing her out of the Burrow for the day.

When Harry and Farran had come over for the Cup, Fred and George let him know that Harry was on a 'whitelist,' meaning that pranks generally shouldn't target him. Ron couldn't imagine why he's want to target Harry, so he agreed quickly.

Farran, though, was another case entirely.

"... do you think this is funny?" Farran growled, flicking off the Irritating Insects (which were magical bugs whose sole purpose in life was to annoy their targets.)

"Kind of; really, I just want to play some Quidditch with Harry." Farran, like Hermione, wanted Harry to keep on studying, which sounded _dull_. Harry gave Ron full permission to prank Farran to high heaven, and Ron took advantage of it as much as he could, trying to stuff as many pranks in six hours as was possible.

The result? Farran was becoming well _beyond_ irritated, but getting the message to lay off Harry now that he wasn't trapped with Muggles anymore. Harry audibly thanked him for it, suggesting that, as many things as Farran had crammed in his head in as little time as possible, Harry still found studying as dull as he did a few months ago. Ron wholeheartedly agreed.

Soon enough, Farran got the message understanding that he didn't have any leverage to make Harry study anymore. Instead, he started talking about the Quidditch World Cup.

"Exactly how will they keep up the Statute of Secrecy for an entire stadium?" Farran asked Percy, which was a little weird. Often they got along like Morgana and Merlin. "I imagine that they'll have some physical barriers and some disillusionment charms. Oh, but how will they manage to mask any of the players in the air?

Percy laughed in his irritating and arrogant way. "Physical barriers? There's no need for those; there's likely going to be Muggle-Repelling Charms scattered along the landscape."

Farran raised his eyebrows. "'Muggle-Repelling Charms'?" He asked. "You _can't_ be serious."

"Well, of course. Muggle-Repelling Charms will work wonders for keeping the Muggles away and keeping the Statue intact."

"But then won't they _notice_ the charm and wonder what's pushing them away?"

Percy then laughed. "Farran, how do you think Muggle-Repelling Charms work?"

Farran was silent. "Then they don't _physically _push away the Muggles? It has some sort of mental effect instead?"

Percy nodded. "Exactly; the Muggles start imagining things that they need to do, like their laundry or their taxes. They leave the area, leaving us wizards to do whatever we want."

Farran was silent. "That's troubling," he said, after a small while. "If we wizards can make a charm that repels Muggles, then why can't we make a charm that repels _us_?"

Percy opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. "Do you mean some sort of 'Wizard-Repelling Charm'?" He asked, a confused look on his face.

"Something like that," Farran said with a grimace. "If we can make a charm that pushes away people without magic, then it doesn't seem impossible to set it to the opposite. Since it would push us away as well, there would be no way to get rid of it, too."

A small silence formed between the two. Then, Percy snorted.

"Farran, no wizard would _ever_ develop such a pointless charm," Percy stated with utmost confidence. "The effort would only ever be counterproductive."

"But that's not saying it's impossible," Farran countered.

The discussion continued for a while, not that Ron paid attention to any more of it. Though the idea of a 'wizard-repelling charm' was a bit worrying, he brushed off the fear with ease. Percy was right; no wizard would ever be stupid enough to make a charm that would repel themselves.

Ron managed to draw Farran into a conversation about Quidditch itself. When he realized that Farran didn't know the rules of Quidditch (how on Earth he didn't was beyond him), Ron took it upon himself to teach the young lad. That conversation took an hour or two, for Farran to understand precisely why they had a ball worth 150 points.

While they walked to Stoatshead Hill the next day, Farran discussed traditional Muggle sports with him.

"So, there's _no _flying."

"We don't have brooms," Farran nodded.

"There's no Snitch."

"A lot of people would consider it very unfair if the victory almost always mattered on the abilities of a single person."

"There aren't any Beaters!"

"Muggles can't magic away injuries, Ron." Farran snapped. "Though there _are_ violent sports."

"Like?" Ron asked, hopeful.

"Boxing and karate," Farran explained. "They're physical sports where the main goal is to hit the other person."

Ron blinked. "So, it's like a normal fight?"

"Kind of," Farran agreed. "But you're only allowed to hurt in specific ways, nothing below the waist. There's also professional wrestling."

Ron blinked. "_Professional wrestling_?" As far as Ron knew, wrestling wasn't even a sport, only being something you did for fun when Mum wasn't looking.

Farran, though, looked like he had enough of the conversation. As they neared the Portkey, Ron figured that professional wrestling was a weird Muggle thing. There were a lot of those, after all.

As _Cedric Diggory_ and his father arrived, Ron couldn't help but give Cedric the stink eye, shared by Fred and George. Harry hadn't found a good broom for Quidditch after his Nimbus broke in the match against the Hufflepuffs. Harry had no choice but to borrow one of the better brooms the Quidditch team had, which still failed in the final game against the Slytherins.

Oliver had been inconsolable, as with no Quidditch Cups under his belt. Every Quidditch team had rejected him. Percy mentioned that they were coworkers in the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

"As I was saying earlier, Arthur," Amos, Cedric's father, smiled. "One day, Cedric is going to tell his children, 'I beat Harry Potter'." He tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Isn't that right, boy."

Harry offered a bitter smile. "I suppose so, Mr. Diggory," he replied after a few brief seconds. "There isn't much reason for Cedric to lie to his children, after all."

Cedric was cringing as Mr. Diggory beamed. "Exactly, Mr. Potter. You're a right better sport than your father was, at any rate. I played against him more than a few times back in my Hogwarts years. While _I_ never managed to beat him, on the occasion your father lost, he would always be raving about it up and down the corridors for _weeks_!"

Harry's smile dropped.

"Dad, I'm sure that if we were to play again, with each of us having equal brooms, Harry would win," Cedric tried to appease, but his father was having none of it.

"Nonsense, Cedric! You beat him fair and square, and it would change a thing!" Then Mr. Diggory's face lit up. "I'll tell you what; we have some old brooms in our garage, Cedric. They're _equal,_ aren't they? If you and Harry have a rematch on them, you'll know for certain that you're _better_ than Harry Potter."

Cedric had no counter for this, and Harry's eyes flashed. "I'll be ready," Harry vowed.

Mr. Diggory grinned. "That's the spirit! A good exciting round of Quidditch, right after the Cup!" He then looked at his watch. "Speaking of the Cup, the Portkey should be active right about now, shouldn't it?"

Dad, who had been watching from the sidelines. "I expect so, Amos. Come around, everyone. In ten seconds, everyone should put their finger on the Portkey," he said while gesturing to the old boot.

"The Portkey?" Harry questioned, but then it was time, and as everyone else got in position, Harry followed suit, still more confused than anything."

Then, in a whirl of colors and movement, they had left for the Cup.

A couple of seconds of travel later, they arrived at the stadium grounds. Harry started stumbling around, before right himself. Farran, though, fell to the ground retching.

"That," Farran moaned, wiping the bit of bile that he had summoned from his stomach. "That was _awful_. I never want to use one of those again."

Mr. Diggory shook Farran before helping him up. "Well, everyone's first Portkey is always the worst. After all, it isn't the most relaxing kind of magical travel."

"I hope Apparating is more pleasant," Farran muttered in response, to which Mr. Diggory's smile grew plastic.

After passing the used Portkey to Dad's colleague, they walked up to registration. As Harry started teaching Dad about the basics of muggle money (five, tens, and twenties, it made no sense to him), Farran stared at the Muggle in confusion.

"Why is there a _Muggle_ here?" Farran questioned. "Should he be repelled by the Muggle-Repelling Charm?"

Ron shrugged; Percy wasn't here to answer, and it wasn't like Ron knew the answer either. From what Farran had told him earlier, it didn't sound like they had anything like Quidditch in the Muggle world, so bring a Muggle here seemed rather stupid to him.

After finally getting through the Muggle (Farran got a little disturbed when the wizard came by to Obliviate him and the Muggle started talking about Christmas), they headed to their tent. There, Ron got to see wizards and witches from around the world.

There were African wizards from Uagadou strutting around in pale robes (some of them looked over at Ron by chance and looked very fascinated, they must have been Egyptians). There were witches from Salem hanging around large banners and waving them eagerly. Japanese wizards from Mahoutokoro sitting in a circle and meditating.

As they passed a wizard trying to keep some semblance of order around the whole campsite, Ron took a look at Farran, wondering if he was looking at all of the other wizards in condemnation. Farran, though, seemed more curious than anything.

"There aren't any Muggles here," he said slowly. "Why are they trying to keep the peace? It's not like any Muggles will find us here; we have a Muggle-Repelling Charm hanging around."

"Ah," Dad said. "But there is always a chance that a Muggle could break through it. Best not risk it, after all."

Farran sighed. "Look, I can't help but feel that a perimeter of wizards keeping guard would…" But at that point, everyone stopped paying attention to him (except for Hermione, who was being strangely silent lately). Soon enough, Farran trailed off, shaking his head.

When they arrived at the campsite, they said their farewells to the Diggories and set up their tents. Dad sent him, Harry, and Hermione to pull some water from the tap. At the same time, Dad tried to light a fire using Muggle methods (Ron couldn't understand why they wouldn't just use a stove, there _weren't_ any Muggles around. At the very least, he could have turned into Growlithe and lit up some firewood easily).

When they returned (after saying hello to Seamus and his mother, as well as seeing an old chap called Archie try to persuade an official to let him wear a dress), it turned out that Farran was explaining to Dad how 'combustion' worked. He wasn't having much success.

"Okay, back from the beginning!" Farran said, irritated. "Fire is an ongoing chemical reaction; that means that the thing _making_ the fire is constantly changing, like a Transfiguration that you can't reverse."

Dad nodded.

"The carbon in the wood is what's making the fire; it's what's we light up. It combines with the air to create smoke. That's why you can't breathe smoke; it's like trying to breathe air that's half wood.

Dad slowly nodded, somewhat understanding what Farran was saying. "So, the matches…"

"To _start _the reaction, the one-way transfiguration, you need to put a lot of heat energy at the tip of the match. That comes from friction; when two things rub against each other, they make heat. Try rubbing your hands together, Mr. Weasley," Farran suggested.

Dad started rubbing his hands together furiously. His face lit up when his hands started feeling warm. "Ah!"

"And there's more friction if you do it faster; that, and when one side isn't smooth."

"So, then…" Dad took a match and struck it hard against the matchbox. A few tries later, it lit up. "I see! Thank you, my boy!"

After setting up the fire properly and preparing lunch (while Dad returned the favor and started explaining to Harry, Hermione, and Farran about various fields in the Ministry), Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived.

Once they were halfway through the meal, a couple more of Dad's colleagues arrived; Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch, as well as Oliver Wood, who looked thoroughly wistful at the tents around.

Ron felt a surge of pity toward Oliver, distracting him from the meal. While everyone else was discussing bets and carpets and a whole load of other things, Ron took another look at the campsite.

Then he saw him. Al-Fazeta, the man who had given him the translation device in the Aaksabil, was off by himself, sitting far away from everyone else and tending a small fire. While no one else was looking, Ron escaped the conversation and headed toward the extremely tall wizard.

As Ron approached, Al-Fazeta looked up. "Ah, the ginger boy," he said slowly, before gesturing beside him. "Have a seat."

"'Ginger boy'?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Well, you no longer are the Wielder," Al-Fazeta murmured. "And I seem to have forgotten your name."

"It's Ron Weasley."

"Well, Weasley, have a seat. There's a bit of time before the Cup starts. I have yet to visit one, but since I'm in the area, I might as well see one."

Ron slowly sat down. "Are you mad that I lost the amulet?"

"Not particularly," Al-Fazeta said nonchalantly. "You weren't an awful Wielder, by any standard. You were moral and didn't allow too many people to transform, and you did try to protect it to the best of your ability."

"But I lost it. To Malfoy, and then to a madman."

"I understand full-well what you did," Al-Fazeta said. "But the Malfoy boy wasn't too bad of a Wielder himself. He, too, did his best to keep it safe. It's no longer your problem, quite frankly. Now it's _my _problem for not keeping track of my possessions."

A beat passed.

"The amulet is _yours_?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised. "How is it yours?"

"I made it, along with the other six treasures."

There was a lot to unpack there. "How did you _make_ something like the amulet?" Ron pressed. "And six other treasures?"

"You've already seen the Scroll," Al-Fazeta replied. "There are five other treasures that I've made beside the amulet and the scroll. There's the sword, the bow with an arrow, the compass, the ring, and the staff."

Ron's head spun. "There's more? And all of them have to do with Anima?"

"Exactly." Al-Fazeta nodded. "As a previous Wielder, Weasley, you should be able to recognize them on sight. If you find them, be sure to let me know, and I'll come to retrieve it." Al-Fazeta laughed. "Right now, though, is not a time when we should be thinking of such daunting tasks. Speak of anything else that interests you."

…

Well, there was _one thing_ that he was a little interested in even a year later.

"That ring that you gave me… how did you make it?"

Al-Fazeta smiled and plucked a leaf from a tree above him. With a wave of his hand, it began to whistle for him.

"Let me introduce you to the world of natural enchanting."

* * *

"Hey, Harry, you think that a Bluebottle will help you out in Quidditch?" Ron jibed as the advertisements flew up on the billboards over the stadium. It had been a couple of hours, but the time for the Quidditch World Cup had finally arrived. While they were waiting for the Quidditch teams to come, Ron looked at the advertisements on the billboard.

Harry snorted, smiling. "Yeah, imagine beating Malfoy on a Bluebottle. He wouldn't be able to stomach the loss for _weeks_."

Ron took a second to imagine Malfoy's fury if he lost to a Bluebottle, 'the broom for the whole family,' and he snickered. "Yeah. Anyway, do you have any ideas for what a good broom would be?"

Harry laid his head on the seat rest. "I've been trying to think of one, but there isn't one that stands up to a Nimbus. For now, I'm pretty sure I'm just going to have to get a Cleansweep."

Ron hummed as more advertisements appeared on the billboard.

"Dobby?!" Harry then shouted, making Ron nearly jump in surprise. He spun around in his seat to find a house-elf sitting innocuously behind them. Ron had only seen a House-Elf a few times before, so seeing one was always a little weird. He secretly found them all a little creepy, with their bulging eyes, giant floppy ears, and shrill voices.

As Harry talked to the House Elf (who wasn't Dobby, actually, but some elf named Winky) and learned more about their kind, Farran grew cross. Once Winky stopped talking, Farran started scowling.

"Are all House-Elves that slavish?" He asked Ron once Harry finished talking.

"Slavish?" Ron thought about it. "Yeah, I think so. They all love serving their masters."

Farran looked at Winky. "... I see." He said, looking at how resolute Winky was with her duty, even though she had confessed her problems with it. "But _why_?"

"Why what?"

"Why are House-Elves servants?" He asked, a confused look appearing on his face. "I can't imagine any evolutionary reason why a species would become servile to another species." Farran looked at Ron. "Though I don't imagine you understood what I just said."

Ron shook his head.

"What about you, Harry," Farran looked over. "I told you about evolution. Any ideas of your own?"

Harry shrugged. "Not a clue. Try asking Winky yourself, Farran."

"I suppose that's an option." Farran turned his head toward Winky. "Hey, Winky, why are House-Elves so subservient?"

"House-Elves is loyal," Winky started, looking offended, "Because we is House-Elves. House-Elves is not needing a reason to be House-Elves."

Farran scowled. "No, I get that House-Elves are subservient. But _why_? Why not just enjoy your life?"

Winky looked scandalized. "If Winky is not a servant, then Winky is not a House Elf! Winky is not needing of _enjoyment_! Winky is only needing Master's approval!"

Farran frowned, then turned away from Winky. "There's something wrong with this all," he said. "I'm sure there has to be _some_ reason, but Winky doesn't seem to know it. She's loyal to the point of insanity."

Winky didn't hear what Farran said, and so couldn't voice any offense. Ron, personally, couldn't imagine why Farran was getting so worked up about this. "That's just how House-Elves are, Farran," he replied. "They just like working and serving."

Farran scoffed. "But it had to start at some point, right?"

Ron shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose."

"And things happen because of cause-and-effect, right?"

"... yeah?"

"Then what was the cause of House-Elves being like _that_?" Farran asked, a sharp look on his face.

There wasn't an answer Ron could give. As far as he knew, House-Elves were loyal to their master. He had never thought about how it had started.

"I don't know," he admitted, before turning to Hermione. "Hermione, do you have an idea?"

Hermione, though, was listlessly looking through the pamphlet. She hadn't looked up when Ron had spoken to her and continued to leaf through.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted.

Hermione looked up. She was looking more absent-minded than she usually did, looking a bit like Loony Lovegood, though her face sharpened a little.

"What is it, Ron?" She asked waspishly.

"Why do you think House-Elves are so loyal?"

Hermione snarled. "I don't know, Ron! Figure out yourself!" With that, she returned to the pamphlet, her eyes going in and out of focus.

Ron frowned. "You don't need to be so rude," he said tersely. Hermione didn't answer and instead looked blankly at her pamphlet.

Ron frowned. Now that he thought about it, Hermione hadn't said anything today. It was mostly him and Harry talking, while Farran contributed an odd opinion now and then. Usually, _she_ would be asking all the questions.

Maybe all she'd need was the Quidditch Cup; that would get her fired up!

And soon enough, the Cup had started, and Ron was having the time of his life (ignoring the Malfoys, of course). As Ludo Bagman projected his voice, Ron was on the edge of his seat with anticipation.

Then the Veela came, and with the intrusion into his mind, he snapped his Occlumency barriers into place. He blinked, wondering what on _Earth_ the Veela were to be activating his Occlumency barriers.

Then he noticed that Harry had a foot on the edge of the box. He and Farran hurried to push him down before he did anything stupid. When the Veela stopped dancing, Harry was with the crowd, shouting for them to return.

"Harry, calm down!" Farran, irritated, yelled. "They're just _women_!"

Harry slowly calmed down, shaking his head. "What _were_ they?" He asked, looking more than a little confused.

"Veela," Dad replied. "Powerful temptresses. You'd best keep your minds about you, boys, otherwise you'd lose them."

Ron whistled as he saw the damage the Veela had done. A lot of the Irish supporters were looking very conflicted, and looking back, even the Minister was drooling (not the Malfoys, though).

After the Leprechauns started throwing gold around (Ron made sure to pocket some, gold was _always_ useful), the players started coming on to the field. Ron was an ardent Ireland supporter, but he cheered as loud as the Bulgarians as Bagman announced Krum. Though he looked flat-footed and as odd as a duck, Krum was a _genius_ flier.

Then the match started, and Ron could scarcely believe his eyes. He had seen professional Quidditch once when Dad had managed to sneak them into a stadium. Compared to Ireland, though, those professionals were like children.

Ten points, twenty points, then thirty! Ireland grew a larger and larger lead, and he could barely follow the action! The game grew faster, Bulgaria scored, and the Veela started dancing. With all his excitement, his barriers were slowly failing, but it didn't matter, _Ireland was winning_!

Then, out of nowhere, Krum caught the Snitch, but it was too late; Ireland had already pulled in eleven more goals and three penalties. Even with the additional points that the Snitch gave Bulgaria, the Bulgarian still lost by ten points.

Ron cheered as loudLY as he could. That was the best outcome that he could have possibly hoped for; the game ending with a spectacular catch by Krum, but Ireland still winning the Cup in the end.

As Ireland flew their laps around the stadium and they came to the top box (where _they_ were!) to get the Cup, Ron turned to Farran, gushing. "Wasn't that _amazing_?"

Farran, though, had a small frown on his face. "That shouldn't have been as close as it was," he said blithely. "Bulgaria had been losing a hundred-and-seventy-to-ten, but still ended it only with a ten-point difference."

"But that's what the Snitch does, remember?"

Farran snorted."Bet you two Galleons that Bulgaria only made it this far because Krum is better than all of them combined."

Ron winced. Farran had gotten it spot-on; Bulgaria had been losing every match until Krum caught the Snitch. The difference between the scores after every game Bulgaria played had been shrinking until the Snitch was the only part of the game that gave Bulgaria a chance.

Farran continued. "If the Snitch was worth, say, fifty points instead of a hundred and fifty, it wouldn't have taken until the finals for Bulgaria to have lost."

Ron pursed his lips as the Bulgarians stepped forward in the top box. Ron looked at them, and as he gazed at them, he remembered their dirty tactics, tactics that wouldn't have been out of place on the Slytherin team at Hogwarts. As the Bulgarians passed, Krum looked at Hermione. A sharp look of something like suspicion crossed Krum's face before he looked away.

"Yeah," Ron eventually admitted, deciding to stop thinking about it. "That sounds about right." Feeling uncomfortable, he looked at Hermione. "So, are you feeling better now, Hermione?"

Hermione didn't respond and instead stared vacantly at the field ahead. Ron tapped her shoulder, and Hermione looked over. "Is it done?" She softly asked, noting the fans that were leaving the stands. "Who… who won?"

Hermione had missed the Cup. _Hermione had missed the Cup_.

"Hermione, what's the matter with you?" Ron sharply asked, finally understanding that something was amiss. "You've been distracted all day long; you've missed the _Cup_!"

Hermione winced. "I suppose I have," she said, bowing her head. "Sorry, Mr. Weasley."

Dad looked over. "Are you feeling all right, Hermione?" He said, much more kindly than Ron had.

Hermione grimaced. "I might need a bit of a lie-in," she confessed. "I haven't been able to concentrate all day. I've been rather distracted by this feeling I have."

Dad nodded as they started making their way to the tent. "You might have caught a bug," he remarked casually. "Don't worry, Hermione. You'll be as right as rain when we get back to the Burrow."

Hermione didn't say anything. Harry sidled up to her. "What's distracting you," he murmured, just loud enough so that Ron could hear too.

Hermione spoke slowly. "There's fire. Tents were burning. I heard screams. I'm alone, without my wand, and then…" She shook her head. "It's nothing," she declared confidently, or was that desperately? "Just a dream."

"A dream?" Harry asked suspiciously. "How long ago _was_ this dream?"

"... last night," Hermione said. "And it's happened a few times before. Still, it's nothing but a dream! We're leaving bright and early tomorrow morning, and I have my wand with me right here."

Hermione dug around in her pocket, looking for the wand. "It's right… right here… where is it?!" she shrieked with pure terror

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then back at Hermione. "We're going to find your wand. Wait back at the tents while we-"

Hermione scoffed and turned to Dad, who had been looking at them in confusion. "Mr. Weasley," she requested. "I've lost my wand at the stadium. Can we go get it back quickly?"

Dad looked pensive. "They're going to be taking it down quickly, and they might not let you in. Still, they might give you a chance."

Hermione nodded. "Quick, let's go." The three of them started running toward the stadium. Moving through the mass of wizards and witches was difficult, but they managed to get to the top box before they found out something dreadful.

"_Closed?!"_ Hermione shouted, nearly tearing her hair out. "The top box is closed?!"

Harry looked deep in concentration. "We need to get inside. Maybe if we unlock the door," he offered.

Hermione shook her head. "They've enchanted the top box against those kinds of magic. They don't want anyone to attack the Quidditch players after the World Cup."

Harry frowned, but Ron then had an idea. "Hermione, your Anima has psychic powers, right? Why don't you use them to unlock the door."

"Ron, I…" Hermione started to protest, but then trailed off. "Psychic powers_…_ maybe they _could _work…"

Hermione changed into her Anima, the Kirlia. Hermione held out her tiny hands, her eyes glowing pink, and her body automatically falling into a ballet stance as she used her powers. With a shutter and a _click_, the door opened.

Then Hermione's Kirlia form fell to the floor, crying.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, falling to the little Anima's side.

There was a flash of light, and Hermione was a human again, tears still streaking down her face.

"Hermione, what happened?!"

Hermione looked up, her face terrified but also holding a note of determination. "We… we have to be quick!" Hermione ran inside the opened top box. "Otherwise

"What?!" Harry shouted as the two of them ran inside after her.

As she explained, Hermione started searching for her wand. "When you first activated my Anima, the scroll told me I could see into the future. At first, I thought it would help me with my Divination, except that it hasn't. Instead, it's been giving me prophetic dreams all summer long, and now it's given me a vision." She looked straight at them. "There's going to be an attack."

Ron took a moment to process this.

"An attack?" Harry said, eyes sharpening. "You mean…"

"Some wizards, I don't know who exactly, are going to burn down the tents," Hermione said sharply."We have to go and stop it _now_. I'm going to tell Mr. Weasley about my visions."

Ron felt a surge of panic. He didn't know _what _was going to happen when Dad found out about Anima and what happened with the amulet. Ron didn't want to know either. "Hermione, maybe we should find out more about the attack, or at least find your wand first."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I suppose… " she said slowly. "Harry, go and warn Mr. Weasley. Ron and I will find my wand and be back to help you out soon."

Harry nodded. "Sure," he promised.

That wasn't what Ron was hoping would happen, but before he could raise another objection, Harry was off. Hermione had turned to him, eyes flashing. "Ron, I need you to turn into your Growlithe form. You have a stronger nose in I do in your Growlithe form. My wand is of vinewood."

Things were moving too fast for Ron to keep up. He reluctantly transformed into Growlithe and started sniffing around the top box, looking for Hermione's wand. He eventually found the scent of Hermione's wand; every wand wood had a unique smell, so it was simple to locate.

Following it, though, was much harder than he thought it would be. Hermione's wand had left the top box, but after a while, it had mixed with other smells. Going outside, Ron could still smell Hermione's wand, but it was harder to find.

Then, as they were walking through the campsite, making sure no one could see them, Ron heard a scream tear through the air.

"We're too late," Hermione whispered.

Ron immediately turned back. "Was Harry too late?" He asked while running brazenly through the campsite. Wizards and witches from all over the world were running around in terror. Tents were burning, and there was a sound of screaming coming from far away.

"Ron… I…" Hermione started stuttering nervously. "I… could I have prevented this?!"

"Hermione, enough!" Ron shouted as Hermione started freezing up again. "Let's get moving! We have to find Harry!"

Hermione nodded, and they started running through the campsite. The screams grew louder, and they passed a Muggle family, one of them being the Muggle they had seen when they first came to the campsite, being toyed with by masked wizards. Ron gripped his wand, wanting to do _something_. Harry came first, though, and Ron didn't fancy getting into a duel alone.

Without being in his Growlithe form, Ron could neither get the scent of Harry nor Hermione's wand. If he wanted to find them, he'd have to transform.

"Hermione, let's get into the forest. If I transform, I can find Harry." Ron said, after thinking for a short while as they ran. Hermione mulled it over for a fraction of a second, then nodded.

"You go do that," she said. "I'll go to the tent and ask Mr. Weasley where Harry is." Before Ron could offer a single protest, Hermione was off.

"Be safe!" He finally managed to get out before Hermione had gone out of hearing range. He saw a bright flash of light; Hermione had transformed again, which was as good a promise as he was going to get.

Ron ran into the forest and transformed. Immediately, he picked up Harry's scent in the woods. Harry must have run into the woods after the screaming had started, or maybe Dad had sent him in here. Ron quickly bounded after the scent.

It took a short while, but after following the scent for a short while, he found Harry running through the woods in his Shinx form.

"Harry!" He shouted, knowing Harry could understand his growls in that form. Harry's lionlike head snapped toward Ron's direction.

"Ron?!" Harry transformed back, and Ron did likewise. "Where's Hermione?!"

"She's gone to the tent looking for you," Ron answered. "Did you tell Dad where you were going?!"

Harry nodded. "Before I could explain anything, the attack started. Mr. Weasley told everyone to go into the woods, but we got separated. I think he's with the other Ministry members trying to calm everything down. We should-"

Before Harry could continue, Ron felt a strong feeling of dread crash down his spine.

"Get down!" He shouted.

Before Harry could respond, Ron knocked him to the ground, as a firestorm raged over them. Ron and Harry stared, wide-eyed, as a demon of fire soared over them and spread flames everywhere.

Ron let Harry up, who gaped at the monster above them. "What _is_ that?"

Ron could only think of one thing. "I think it's Fiendfyre," he whispered to him. "It's a notorious fire curse that can burn through anything. I heard that it shows up as animals when used the right way." The fire spread throughout the campsite, burning everything it could.

Then it hit them. "Hermione!"

Not even thinking of the consequences, both of them shifted back into their Anima forms and ran into the campsite. People screamed around them as they loped through, trying to find Hermione as fast as they could. As everything burned around them, masking Hermione's scent and any recognizable landmarks, Ron felt panic seize him.

"Harry, where's the tent?!"

There was no response.

"Harry?!"

Ron turned around and found Harry far behind him, stumbling and gasping for air. Ron ran back.

"Harry, what wrong?!"

"Can't breathe… too hot…" Harry could barely make out.

Harry was in danger; Ron had to save him. Grabbing him, Ron made his way to the woods so that Harry could recover. Once they were far enough outside of the Fiendfyre's range, Harry transformed back.

"I… it's too dangerous for me in there," Harry gasped. "I'll go find the others if I can. You go find Hermione and Mr. Weasley." Shaking himself of the exhaustion, Harry ran deeper into the forest.

Ron wanted to go after him, but then remembered that Hermione needed him. Taking one last look at Harry, he ran back into the wildfire.

As he looked for Hermione, he felt panic seize him again. "Where are you, Hermione?!" He shouted, hoping that Hermione, in her Anima form, would be able to hear him. He couldn't transform back; being a Growlithe gave him some protection against fire. Without out it, he'd have died three times over already.

Then he found something familiar; the tap they had drawn water from earlier. Retracing his steps from earlier in the day, he found his way over to their tents.

Or what remained of their tents, at least.

Ron stared at the smoldering heaps of rubble in front of them, seeing the dishes he had eaten lunch out of warp from the overpowering heat of the Fiendfyre.

"Ghastly spell, isn't it?" Ron whipped around to stare at Al-Fazeta, looking down at him. "Hello, ginger boy. A Growlithe, eh?"

Ron gulped.

"Your friend is alright, so you don't have to worry. This cursed fire hasn't consumed her; she's broken beyond the limits of time to escape that fate."

Hermione was alright… Ron felt a wave of relief pass over him.

"Though I can't say where she is right now, I know that something like this wouldn't stop her. She's far too strong to let this defeat her." Al-Fazeta looked around. "Though, I'd have to say that this Fiendfyre is putting a damper on the situation. It's about time I get rid of it, isn't it?"

Ron blinked.

"Before I do, transform back. I'd like to talk to you face-to-face." Ron turned back into a human, marveling as he found that the Fiendfyre couldn't affect him. In fact, in a sphere around them, the flames didn't enter. "Excellent. Now, a science question. What is fire?"

Ron remembered Farran's explanation from earlier. "It's a 'reaction' if I'm right. The transformation of 'carbon' into smoke."

"Good enough. Now, then, what is Fiendfyre, then, if it can burn things that aren't carbon, things that normally can't burn, like solid iron?"

"I… don't know," Ron admitted, looking at the skillet that they cooked on. Right now, it was burning as brightly as the flammable tent.

"Well, ginger boy, that Fiendfyre is pure alchemical fire. The truest essence of fire, unbound by the limitations of physics. It embodies the true nature of flame, that which causes change; the reaction."

"What?"

"Yes, it _is_ hard to grasp at first. Tell me, though; what is happening to that skillet."

Ron looked at the skillet again; it was burning, yes, but instead of turning into ash, it was mixing with every other metal into slag, into something entirely new.

"It's… melting. Melting with every other metal and mixing into a new alloy."

"Precisely," Al-Fazeta nodded. "Fiendfyre, as true alchemical fire, causes everything to react to everything else. Nothing can maintain a true form, and nothing is static. Right now, I've blocked it with a special charm, but my magic will run out eventually. We need to extinguish this Fiendfyre as soon as possible. Knowing what we know about Fiendfyre, how will we do that?"

"... stop the reactions?"

"But the Fiendfyre's sole purpose is to _cause_ the reactions. If we stop it, it'll immediately reignite. After all, throwing water enchanted to put out flames only stops it for the smallest of instants." Al-Fazeta smiled. "Tell me, what normally _causes _a fire?"

Ron cast his mind back to Farran's lesson. "A match… friction… heat energy?"

"Exactly," he praised. "All reactions rely on external energy. All Fiendfyre does is change that necessary external energy to something approximating zero and spread itself through turning ambient magic into more Fiendfyre." Al-Fazeta snorted. "As long as the surrounding temperature isn't absolute zero, things will burn. As long as there is magic in the world, the Fieldfyre will spread."

"Then how do we stop it?"

"We take care of both things at the same time. First, we must rob this area of its magic, stopping the spread of the Fiendfyre. That will get rid of the Fiendfyre, but not the flame themselves. For that, we must rob the area of external heat energy as well; in other words, we must make it cold."

Then Al-Fazeta raised his hands. "And with those parameters, I have engineered the counter-curse."

Al-Fazeta waved his hands, and black smoke came pouring out of his palm. As it expanded, it grew alongside the Fiendfyre and snuffed it out. A wisp of it touched Ron, making him shiver. He felt his wand sort of _die_ in his pocket for the briefest of seconds.

"This smoke," he said. "It's… draining things of its magic."

Al-Fazeta nodded. "It's locating the Fiendfyre and absorbing its magic, as well as draining the flames of their heat energy. With the Fiendfyre's magic gone, it can neither use ambient magic to spread itself nor reduce the needed energy for reactions to near-zero. By draining the heat, it takes out any normal flames as well. By draining all other magic as well, it can stop the Fiendfyre from escaping and continuing to wreak havoc."

The two of them were silent as the last of Fiendfyre disappeared, and the smoke returned to Al-Fazeta's palm. As it passed by Ron, he felt a surge of energy.

"I've recharged your magic, in case you want to perform spells tonight. Take what you've learned to heart, ginger boy. With your knowledge of a problem comes solutions to that problem. Understand what's plaguing you to solve it. Otherwise, you will rely on nothing but luck. If you find the artifacts, be sure to tell me."

Ron, feeling guilty, resolved himself to do just that. He owed a debt to Al-Fazeta, multiple debts. The least he could do it follow through.

Then, with a smile, Al-Fazeta waved his hand and faded to unknown places, leaving Ron alone. Ron shook his head; he'd have to find Harry and Hermione as soon as possible.

He'd need them, just as they needed him.

* * *

**This is one of the fics I've been trying to persevere with. Figuring out what to do with the almighty CANON is 70% of the battle; balancing the OCs' and main characters' is another 20%. The plot is easy, at 5%, editing at 5% well. Sorry for the MONTHS between uploads. :(**

**I can't even promise quick updates in the future, since summer break is ending and I have another fic to write at the same time. So again, I thank you for your patience and support. If you enjoyed the fic, feel free to fav, follow, and review. They mean a lot to me.**

**See you soon, if I can get one out eventually.**


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